


... The Forgotten Twin ...

by TheRangerLife



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 1st year, Enemies to Friends, F/M, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Good!Snape, Kinda, Multi, Nice!Draco, Secret Relationship, Some Humor, Swearing / Cussing, Twin sister, Update as I Finish Writing, forgotten twin, harry potter twin - Freeform, idk how to tag, irregular updates, ummm more added later?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:41:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 53,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25144090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRangerLife/pseuds/TheRangerLife
Summary: Most people know the infamous story behind the young lad named Harry Potter. How his mother died, sacrificing herself to protect her child. They know that the little babe, just reaching his first year of life, managed to do the impossible, defeat the most powerful, easily the evilest,  wizard of the century, if not ever.Most people fail to remember that Harry was not the target. Harry was not meant to be hit with the curse. It was his younger twin sister, Aileen Potter.  Harry chose to jump in front of his sister, taking the curse for himself... getting his equally famous scar. What people don’t know, even the Potter twins, is that Aileen received a scar that night too. One not so easily seen, and covered up with powerful magic…Also posted on Wattpad. (TheRangerLife)
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Original Female Character(s), Harry Potter/Original Female Character(s), Harry Potter/Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Severus Snape/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 45





	1. * The Beginning *

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own any HP characters or plotlines that are not my own (Aileen Potter, etc.) All of those rights go to J.K. Rowling (and the Warner Bros. ~ movie rights ~ ) for her amazing writing skills for creating this beloved series that has inspired plenty of others to write. 
> 
> I will be using most of the plot guide lines from the books, but will add in my fav. moments from the movies. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy! Comments and Kudos very much welcomed!

I. 

Most people know the infamous story behind the young lad named Harry Potter. How his mother died, sacrificing herself to protect her child. They know that the little babe, just reaching his first year of life, managed to do the impossible, defeat the most powerful, easily the evilest, wizard of the century, if not ever.   
Most people fail to remember that Harry was not the target. Harry was not meant to be hit with the curse. It was his younger twin sister, Aileen Potter. Harry chose to jump in front of his sister, taking the curse for himself... getting his equally famous scar. What people don’t know, even the Potter twins, is that Aileen received a scar that night too. One not so easily seen, and covered up with powerful magic… 

\----------------------------------------------

Nearly ten years had passed since the Dursleys had woken up to find their nephew and niece on the front steps, but Privet Drive had hardly changed at all. The sun rose on the same tidy front gardens and lit up the brass number four on the Dursleys’ front door; it crept into their living-room, which was almost exactly the same as it had been on the night when Mr. Dursley had seen that fateful news report about the owls. Only the photographs on the mantelpiece really showed how much time had passed. Ten years ago, there had been lots of pictures of what looked like a large pink beach ball wearing different-colored bobble hats. There used to be some that included a young girl, close in age to Dudley himself. However, Dudley Dursley was no longer a baby, and now the photographs showed a large, blond boy and slight girl with long, dark auburn hair and emerald green eyes riding their first bicycles, the boy on a roundabout at the fair, playing a computer game with his father, being hugged and kissed by his mother. The girl potting plants with the older woman, and one with a gummy smile after losing her front teeth. The room held no sign at all that another child lived in the house. 

I was asleep in the smallest bedroom upstairs, blissfully resting. Not for long though. My aunt’s shrill voice filled the air, piercing straight into my conscience. 

“Up! Get up! Now!”

I shot up. I could hear her Aunt Petunia rapping her knuckles on something downstairs. Of course. She was getting Harry up. Sure enough, I heard the tell-tale screech that the Dursley’s used when talking to my twin. I quickly hopped out of my bed and dressed for the day, a knee-length dove grey dress, sleeve-less and fitted. I laced my Chuck Taylors and satisfied I would look presentable for my cousin’s birthday outing, I shut my bedroom door and headed downstairs.

I walked down the stairs to see my aunt giving the door under the stairs a dirty look. She raised her head when she heard me start down, and her thin lips raised a fraction of an inch. “Oh, Aileen, don’t you look lovely. That grey dress does wonders for your tanned skin. If only you would get a haircut. Those curls must be a nuisance!” 

I brushed my hair from my eyes, having let it hang naturally today. My gentle curls were brushing my elbows. “It’s fine, Aunt Tuney . I want to grow my hair out like you said Mum did when she was my age.” 

My aunt’s eyes turned dark after that. Oops, I forgot that Aunt Tuney doesn’t like the mention of her sister, my mother. She rarely talks about her as it is. She was back to looking at the broom cupboard door. “Are you up yet?” she demanded to my brother. Sorry, Harry.

“Nearly,” came Harry’s faint reply.

“Well, get a move on, I want you to look after the bacon. And don’t you dare let it burn, I want everything perfect on Duddy’s birthday.”

I heard Harry groan, and I held back a sigh. Poor Harry. Our family always treats him like trash. It’s a wonder that they don’t treat me like that too… probably because I remind my aunt of Lily.

“What did you say?” our aunt snapped through the door. The same could not be said for Harry.

“Nothing, nothing …”

I entered the kitchen to see the table was almost hidden beneath all Dudley’s birthday presents. It looked as though Dudley had got the new computer he wanted, not to mention the second television and the racing bike. I started on the bacon to help Harry out, giving him a few more minutes to prepare himself for today.

Exactly why Dudley wanted a racing bike was a mystery to me, as Dudley was very fat and hated exercise – unless of course it involved punching somebody. Dudley’s favorite punch-bag was Harry, but he couldn’t often catch him. Harry didn’t look it, but he was very fast. 

I was glad that Harry found a way to avoid Dudley. It physically hurt to see my cousin hitting on my brother. It felt as if I was getting punch personally as well. At least over the years Harry has learned how to keep away from Dudley and his ‘friends’. I had always been immune from the beatings but that didn’t stop the leery stares I got from a few of them.   
I saw my twin walk into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Most people find it hard to believe that we are twins. Whereas I have naturally tanned skin and dark auburn hair,   
freckles along my nose, and a shapely figure (nothing too drastic either way), Harry is almost the opposite. 

Harry had always been small and skinny for his age. Probably because he was always in the cupboard. He looked even smaller and skinnier than he really was because all he had to wear were old clothes of Dudley’s (I had my own clothes, thank the gods) and Dudley was about four times bigger than my brother. Harry had a thin face, knobbly knees, and black hair. He wore round glasses held together with all the scotch tape I kept putting on because of all the times Dudley had punched him on the nose when we were younger. Harry also had a very thin scar on his forehead which was shaped like a bolt of lightning. The only thing that we shared in common was our emerald green eyes.

I remember the only time Harry asked how he got his scar, and Aunt Tuney was really quick to answer. “In the car crash when your parents died,” she had said. “And don’t ask questions.”

Don’t ask questions – that was the first rule for a quiet life with the Dursleys.

Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen Harry started to crack the eggs. “Comb your hair, boy!” he barked, by way of a morning greeting. I rolled my eyes. Surely by now, he realizes that that is the way Harry’s hair looks naturally. No amount of combing will change how it looks. That doesn’t stop my uncle from yelling at Harry to get a haircut. Harry must have had more haircuts than the rest of the boys in our class’ put together. It never made a difference. It always grew back the same way each time – all over the place. Honestly, I liked that best about Harry. Where he couldn’t be a rebel, his hair stepped up to do the job.

Harry frying the eggs, and me the bacon, by the time Dudley arrived in the kitchen with his mother. Dudley looked a lot like Uncle Vernon. He had a large, pink face, not much neck, small, watery blue eyes and thick, blond hair that lay smoothly on his thick, fat head. Aunt Petunia often said that Dudley looked like a baby angel – we often said that Dudley looked like a pig in a wig.

Harry put the plates of eggs on the table and I dished out the bacon. Dudley, meanwhile, was counting his presents. His face fell.

“Thirty-six,” he said, looking up at his mother and father. “That’s two less than last year.”

“Darling, you haven’t counted Auntie Marge’s present, see, it’s here under this big one from Mummy and Daddy.”

“All right, thirty-seven then,” said Dudley, going red in the face. Me and Harry could see a huge Dudley tantrum coming on and began wolfing down our food as fast as possible in case Dudley turned the table over.

Aunt Petunia obviously scented danger too, because she said quickly, “And we’ll buy you another two presents while we’re out today. How’s that, popkin? Two more presents. Is that all right?”

Dudley thought for a moment. It looked like hard work. Finally he said slowly, “So I’ll have thirty … thirty …”

“Thirty-nine, sweetums,” said Aunt Petunia.

“Oh.” Dudley sat down heavily and grabbed the nearest parcel. “All right then.” That greedy bastard.

Uncle V chuckled. “Little tyke wants his money’s worth, just like his father. Atta boy, Dudley!” He ruffled Dudley’s hair.

At that moment, the telephone rang and Aunt Petunia went to answer it while Harry, Uncle V, and I watched Dudley unwrap the racing bike, a cine-camera, a remote-control airplane, sixteen new computer games and a video recorder. He was ripping the paper off a gold wristwatch when Aunt Petunia came back from the telephone, looking both angry and worried.

“Bad news, Vernon,” she said. “Mrs. Figg’s broken her leg. She can’t take him.” She jerked her head in Harry’s direction.

Dudley’s mouth fell open in horror but my heart gave a leap, and it looked like Harry’s had too, based on his sudden hopeful expression. Every year on Dudley’s birthday his parents took him, a friend, and I out for the day, to adventure parks, hamburger bars or the cinema. Every year, Harry was left behind with Mrs. Figg, a mad old lady who lived two streets away. Harry hated it there. He told me that the whole house smelled of cabbage and Mrs. Figg made him look at photographs of all the cats she’d ever owned.

“Now what?” said Aunt Petunia, looking furiously at Harry as though he’d planned this. I knew I ought to feel sorry that Mrs. Figg had broken her leg, but when I reminded myself it would be a whole year before Harry had to look at Tibbles, Snowy, Mr. Paws and Tufty again, the feeling wasn’t as prominent as Harry’s happiness. He had so little to look forward to.   
I bet he felt the same way too. I mean, I never actually had to endure it.

“We could phone Marge,” Uncle Vernon suggested.

“Don’t be silly, Vernon, she hates the boy.”

The Dursleys often spoke about Harry like that, as though he wasn’t there – or rather, as though he was something very nasty that couldn’t understand them, like a slug. It always made me mad, especially seeing as they treated me almost has well has their own son.

“What about what’s-her-name, your friend – Yvonne?”

“On holiday in Majorca,” snapped Aunt Petunia.

“You could just leave me here,” Harry put in hopefully. I snorted quietly. He only said that so he’d be able to watch what he wanted on television for a change and maybe even have a go on Dudley’s computer.

Aunt Petunia looked as though she’d just swallowed a lemon.

“And come back and find the house in ruins?” she snarled.

“I won’t blow up the house,” said Harry, but they weren’t listening.

“He can go with us?” I add, hoping they say yes. I knew that Harry would love to see the zoo.

Aunt Petunia gave me a look. Then slowly said, “well, … we could leave him in the car …”

“That car’s new, he’s not sitting in it alone …”

Dudley began to cry loudly. In fact, he wasn’t really crying, it had been years since he’d really cried, but he knew that if he screwed up his face and wailed, his mother would give him anything he wanted. Pathetic, really.

“Dinky Duddydums, don’t cry, Mummy won’t let him spoil your special day!” she cried, flinging her arms around him.

“I … don’t … want … him … t-t-to come!” Dudley yelled between huge pretend sobs. “He always sp-spoils everything!” He shot Harry a nasty grin through the gap in his mother’s   
arms. I frowned slightly, trying to hold back the impulse to smack the grin off his face. I clenched my fist, but glanced to Harry, and he shook his head ever-so-slightly. I rolled my eyes but dropped the frown and released my fists before my aunt or uncle saw it.

They may not mistreat me, but I would still get punished if I hurt Dudley.

Just then, the doorbell rang – “Oh, Good Lord, they’re here!” said Aunt Petunia frantically – and a moment later, Dudley’s best friend, Piers Polkiss, walked in with his mother. Piers was a scrawny boy with a face like a rat. He was usually the one who held people’s arms behind their backs while Dudley hit them. Dudley stopped pretending to cry at once. 

Did I already mention pathetic…?


	2. * At the Zoo *

II. 

Half an hour later, I couldn’t believe Harry’s luck. He was sitting in the back of the Dursleys’ car with Piers and Dudley, (I was squished between Aunt Tuney and Uncle V in the front) on the way to the zoo for the first time in his life. Our aunt and uncle hadn’t been able to think of anything else to do with him, but before they’d left, Uncle Vernon had taken Harry aside.

“I’m warning you,” I heard him mutter while I tried to get comfortable in my ‘seat’. He put his large purple face right up close to Harry’s, “I’m warning you now, boy – any funny business, anything at all – and you’ll be in that cupboard from now until Christmas.”

“I’m not going to do anything,” said Harry, “Honestly …”

But Uncle Vernon didn’t believe him. No one ever did, only me.

The thing was that strange things often happened around Harry and it was just no good telling the Dursleys he didn’t make them happen.  
But I had faith in Harry today. I knew how much it meant to him to be out of the awful cupboard where he slept, or Mrs. . Figg’s cabbage-smelling living-room. Even if he was with Dudley and Piers. 

While he drove, Uncle Vernon complained to Aunt Petunia and me. He liked to complain about things: people at work, Harry, the council, Harry, the bank and Harry were just a few of his favorite subjects. This morning, it was motorbikes.

“ … roaring along like maniacs, the young hoodlums,” he said, as a motorbike overtook them.

“I had a dream about a motorbike,” said Harry, remembering suddenly. “It was flying.” I mentally cringed when he said that. You should have kept your mouth shut, Harry!  
Uncle Vernon nearly crashed into the car in front. He turned right around in his seat and yelled at Harry, his face like a gigantic beetroot with a moustache, “MOTORBIKES DON’T FLY!”

Motorbikes may not fly, but your spit sure does. I tried to subtly wipe the spittle off my shoulder after it came out of my uncle’s mouth. Gross. 

Dudley and Piers sniggered.

“I know they don’t,” said Harry. “It was only a dream.”

I knew he wished he hadn’t said anything. If there was one thing the Dursleys hated even more than us asking questions, it was his talking about anything acting in a way it shouldn’t, no matter if it was in a dream or even a cartoon – they seemed to think we might get dangerous ideas.

The rest of the ride passed in silence. I glanced back to check on Harry, and saw that he was gazing at his shoes, not wanting to attract any more trouble. As I started to turn forwards again, I saw Piers give me a suggestive wink. My skin crawled and I shuddered, turning around fully. I didn’t like the way that Dudley’s friends looked at me. I always felt uncomfortable and unsafe. Even someone as innocent as myself can clearly see what goes on in the (slightly) older boys’ heads.

Finally we reached the zoo. It was a very sunny Saturday and it was crowded with families. The Dursleys bought Dudley and Piers large chocolate ice-creams at the entrance, and I got a vanilla cone. Then, because the smiling lady in the van had asked Harry what he wanted before they could hurry him away, they bought him a cheap lemon ice lolly. It wasn’t bad either, I thought after he gave me a lick, as we all watched a gorilla scratching its head. Harry even said it looked remarkably like Dudley, except that it wasn’t blond. I snickered at that, and ‘Duddydums’ glared back at Harry. I wondered if he heard what Harry had said.

Harry and I had the best morning we’d had together in a long time. We were careful to walk a little way apart from the Dursleys so that Dudley and Piers, who were starting to get bored with the animals by lunchtime, wouldn’t fall back on their favorite hobby of hitting Harry. We ate in the zoo restaurant and when Dudley had a tantrum because his knickerbocker glory wasn’t big enough, Uncle Vernon bought him another one and Harry was allowed to finish the first.  
We both should have known the good wouldn’t last long. 

After lunch we went to the reptile house. It was cool and dark in there, with lit windows all along the walls. Behind the glass, all sorts of lizards and snakes were crawling and slithering over bits of wood and stone. Dudley and Piers wanted to see huge, poisonous cobras and thick, man-crushing pythons. Dudley quickly found the largest snake in the place. It could have wrapped its body twice around Uncle Vernon’s car and crushed it into a dustbin – but at the moment it didn’t look in the mood. In fact, it was fast asleep.  
Dudley stood with his nose pressed against the glass, staring at the glistening brown coils.

“Make it move,” he whined at his father. Uncle Vernon tapped on the glass, but the snake didn’t budge.

“Do it again,” Dudley ordered. Uncle Vernon rapped the glass smartly with his knuckles, but the snake just snoozed on. 

“Uncle V, I think that’s a bad idea. What if the snake gets mad?” I call out to them.

“This is boring,” Dudley moaned, completely ignoring me. He shuffled away.

Harry moved in front of the tank and looked intently at the snake. I wouldn’t have been surprised if it had died of boredom itself – no company except stupid people drumming their fingers on the glass trying to disturb it all day long. It was worse than Harry having a cupboard as a bedroom, where the only visitor was Aunt Petunia hammering on the door to wake him up – at least he got to visit the rest of the house and talk to me.

The snake suddenly opened its beady eyes. Slowly, very slowly, it raised its head until its eyes were on a level with ours.  
It winked.

I stared. Harry looked quickly around to see if anyone was watching. They weren’t. He looked back at the snake and winked, too.  
The snake jerked its head towards Uncle Vernon and Dudley, then raised its eyes to the ceiling. It gave Harry and I a look that said quite plainly: ‘I get that all the time.’  
“I know,” Harry murmured through the glass, though I wasn’t sure the snake could hear him. “It must be really annoying.”

Apparently, the snake could hear him. The snake nodded vigorously.

“Where do you come from, anyway?” Harry asked.  
I elbowed him. “Maybe you should read the sign. He’s a Boa Constrictor from Brazil.” I squinted at the sign, the dim light making it slightly hard to see. “It says that he was raised in captivity.”

Harry looked at me, then back at the boa. “Oh, I see – so you’ve never been to Brazil?”

As the snake shook its head, a deafening shout behind Harry and I made both of us jump, as well as the snake. “DUDLEY! MR. DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WON’T BELIEVE WHAT IT’S DOING!”

Dudley came waddling towards them as fast as he could.

“Out of the way, you,” he said, punching Harry in the ribs. Caught by surprise, Harry fell hard on the concrete floor. I reached down to help him, angry. How I wished my cousin could pay for what he did. 

What came next happened so fast no one saw how it happened – one second, Piers and Dudley were leaning right up close to the glass, the next, they had leapt back with howls of horror.

Harry sat up next to me and gasped; the glass front of the boa constrictor’s tank had vanished. I stared in shock as the great snake was uncoiling itself rapidly, slithering out on to the floor – people throughout the reptile house screamed and started running for the exits.

As the snake slid swiftly past us, I could have sworn a low, hissing voice said, “Brazssil, here I come … Thanksss, amigosss.”

The zoo director himself made Aunt Petunia a cup of strong sweet tea while he apologized over and over again. Piers and Dudley could only gibber. Harry had told me the snake hadn’t done anything except snap playfully at their heels as it passed, causing them to fall back into the exhibit, locked inside when the glass reformed. 

By the time we were all back in Uncle Vernon’s car, Dudley was telling me how it had nearly bitten off his leg, while Piers was swearing it had tried to squeeze him to death. But worst of all, for Harry at least, was Piers calming down enough to say, “Harry was talking to it, weren’t you, Harry? Aileen was right there too. You saw him talk to it, didn’t you Aileen?”

I shook my head but stayed silent. I knew if I got involved, Harry would only get it worse. Somehow, I never got punished, and Harry received double punishment if I was included.  
Uncle Vernon waited until Piers was safely out of the house before starting on Harry. He was so angry he could hardly speak. He managed to say, “Go – cupboard – stay – no meals,” before he collapsed into a chair and Aunt Petunia had to run and get him a large brandy.

For the rest of the day, I had to stay with Dudley as he opened his presents, had almost half the triple-layer cake by himself, and finally dinner. When I was serving the plates, I hid few rolls and slices of meat in a napkin, hoping to take it to Harry once everyone went to bed.

After dinner, Dudley went up to his room to play with his new toys and electronics. Uncle V went to the living room to watch the nightly news, just like he always does. I helped Aunt Tuney clear up the kitchen, drying the dishes after she washed them, setting out the pans for breakfast tomorrow, and swiping down the counters while my aunt swept the floors. Once the kitchen was spotless for the third time today, she too went to the living room to watch the news. I made sure I had Harry’s dinner tucked safely in the napkin and hid it behind my back. Now the hard part.

I walked out of the kitchen and knocked on Harry’s door gently, using our secret knock. Tap, tap. Pause. Tap, tap. I carefully unlatched the lock and eased the broom cupboard door open. Harry’s hand darted out, and I gave him the napkin of food that I was able to take. I heard a faint “Thank you, sis,” before I shut the door. Thankfully, the TV was loud, and my aunt and uncle were talking loudly over it.  
Suddenly, there was thundering on the stairs as Dudley came running down. “Mum, I thought I heard knocking!” he yelled out. 

I jumped back and hid in the kitchen. To give me an excuse to be in there, I quickly started a cup of tea. (Aunt Tuney doesn’t like people in her kitchen unless they had a reason… I hope the tea excuse holds.)

I heard Uncle Vernon grumbling about hoodlums interrupting a night of peace, and his stomping walk to check the front door. When nobody was there, I heard his steps getting closer. I busied myself with the tea pot, and poured me a glass, even though the water was barely lukewarm. I added the tea leaves and waited. Right before my uncle entered the kitchen, he stopped. Hearing rattling, I knew he was messing with Harry. 

“I’d better not hear another peep from you, boy!” he roared. I winced. The only reason Harry was being yelled at was because my idiotic cousin heard my knock. I hoped that Uncle V wasn’t going to open the cupboard. If he did, I hoped that Harry had enough common sense to hide the food I just gave him.  
Luckily, it didn’t happen. Uncle V left and headed back into the living room, where Aunt Tuney had stayed. I decided I had stayed out of view for a while, so I went to sit next to my aunt, cup of tea in hand. I sipped it to give me something to do as I zoned out. 

After a few commercials, and disgusting sips of tea (I forgot to add the sugar…) I bid goodnight and headed to my room. I changed into a loose shirt (I think it was once Dudley’s, back when he was 8 or so. It was big on me, but didn’t engulf me like it did Harry), and a pair of short shorts. I climbed into bed but left my sea-green comforter off. Summer nights in Surry tended to be hot and stuffy, especially in my room. As I laid down, I thought about the next birthday coming up, mine and Harry’s. This year, we turned eleven. Right before I fell asleep, I couldn’t help thinking that maybe this year, our birthday will bring something good for the both of us.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AO3 change my formatting, so all my italics are gone. Anyone know how I can add them back in??
> 
> Also Shoutout to : Mimi_Lind !  
>  Thanks you for the re-write / edit suggestions. Check out her (or his, but I am assuming your a girl? Plz correct me if I'm wrong!) Legolas story, it is amazing! (Horse Lady of Rohan)


	3. * New Uniforms and First Letters *

III. 

The escape of the Brazilian boa constrictor earned Harry his longest-ever punishment. By the time he was allowed out of his cupboard again, the summer holidays had started and Dudley had already broken most of his presents. Then the first time out on his racing bike, he knocked down old Mrs. Figg as she crossed Privet Drive on her crutches.

I knew that Harry was glad school was over, but there was no escaping Dudley's gang, who visited the house every single day. Piers, Dennis, Malcolm, and Gordon were all big and stupid, but as Dudley was the biggest and stupidest of the lot, he was the leader. The rest of them were all quite happy to join in Dudley's favorite sport: Harry Hunting.

This was why Harry and I spent as much time as possible out of the house, wandering around and thinking and talking about the end of the holidays. When September came we would be going off to secondary school and, for the first time in our lives, we wouldn't be with Dudley. Dudley had been accepted at Uncle Vernon's old private school, Smeltings. Piers Polkiss was going there too. Harry and I, on the other hand, were going to Stonewall High, the local public school. Dudley thought this was very funny.

"They stuff people's heads down the toilet the first day at Stonewall," he told Harry. "Want to come upstairs and practice?"

"No, thanks," said Harry. "The poor toilet's never had anything as horrible as your head down it -- it might be sick." Then he ran, before Dudley could work out what he'd said. I fell over laughing, and Dudley just threw me a scowl, his many chins being pushed under the collar of his t-shirt. His look only caused me to grab my sides harder because I was laughing so much.

One day in July, Aunt Petunia took Dudley and I to London to buy our uniforms, leaving Harry at Mrs. Figg's. Mrs. Figg wasn't as bad as usual, Harry told me afterwards. It turned out she'd broken her leg tripping over one of her cats, and she didn't seem quite as fond of them as before. She let Harry watch television and gave him a bit of chocolate cake that tasted as though she'd had it for several years. 

That evening, Dudley paraded around the living room for the family in his brand-new uniform. Smeltings' boys wore maroon tailcoats, orange knickerbockers, and flat straw hats called boaters. They also carried knobbly sticks, used for hitting each other while the teachers weren't looking. This was supposed to be good training for later life.  
As he looked at Dudley in his new knickerbockers, Uncle Vernon said gruffly that it was the proudest moment of his life. Aunt Petunia burst into tears and said she couldn't believe it was her Ickle Dudleykins, he looked so handsome and grown-up. I didn't trust myself to speak. Harry looked like two of his ribs might have cracked from trying not to laugh. 

There was a horrible smell in the kitchen the next morning when I went in for breakfast. It seemed to be coming from a large metal tub in the sink. I went to have a look. The tub was full of what looked like dirty rags swimming in gray water.

"What's this?" Harry asked Aunt Petunia when he walked in. Her lips tightened as they always did if he dared to ask a question.

"Your new school uniform," she said.

Harry looked in the bowl again.

"Oh," he said, "I didn't realize it had to be so wet."

"Don’t be stupid," snapped Aunt Petunia. "I'm dyeing some of Dudley's old things gray for you. It'll look just like everyone else's when I've finished."

I seriously doubted this. My uniform was a grey long sleeve that went with a black cardigan. I also had either a knee-length black skirt or a pair of jeans to wear. Harry looked as if he was going to say something but thought it best not to argue. He sat down at the table and I tried not to think about how he was going to look on his first day at Stonewall High -- like he was wearing bits of old elephant skin, probably.

Dudley and Uncle Vernon came in, both with wrinkled noses because of the smell from the ‘uniform’. Uncle Vernon opened his newspaper as usual and Dudley banged his Smelting stick, which he carried everywhere, on the table.

I heard the click of the mail slot and flop of letters on the doormat.

"Get the mail, Dudley," said Uncle Vernon from behind his paper.

"Make Harry get it."

"Get the mail, Harry."

"Make Aileen get it."

"Poke him with your Smelting stick, Dudley."

Harry dodged the Smelting stick and went to get the mail. I went with him. Three things lay on the doormat: a postcard from Uncle Vernon's sister Marge, who was vacationing on the Isle of Wight, a brown envelope that looked like a bill, and -- a letter for Harry and me.

Harry picked it up and stared at it. No one, ever, in his whole life, had written to him. Who would? He had no friends, no other relatives -- he didn't belong to the library, so he'd never even got rude notes asking for books back. Yet here it was, a letter for both of us, addressed so plainly there could be no mistake. Harry gave me my letter:

Ms. A. Potter  
The Second Guest Bedroom  
4 Privet Drive  
Little Whinging  
Surrey 

The envelope was thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment, and the address was written in emerald-green ink. There was no stamp.

Turning the envelope over, I saw a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter H.

"Hurry up, boy!" shouted Uncle Vernon from the kitchen. "What are you doing, checking for letter bombs?" He chuckled at his own joke.

Harry went back to the kitchen, still staring at his letter. I stayed where I was at the front door. What kind of letter was this? 

I vaguely heard Uncle Vernon ripped open the bill, snorted in disgust, and flipped over the postcard.

"Marge's ill," he informed Aunt Petunia. "Ate a funny whelk. --."

"Dad!" said Dudley suddenly. "Dad, Harry's got something!"

I jerked my head up from staring at my letter to see Harry was on the point of unfolding his letter, which was written on the same heavy parchment as the envelope, when it was jerked sharply out of his hand by Uncle Vernon.

"That's mine!" said Harry, trying to snatch it back.

"Who'd be writing to you?" sneered Uncle Vernon, shaking the letter open with one hand and glancing at it. His face went from red to green faster than a set of traffic lights. And it didn't stop there. Within seconds it was the grayish white of old porridge. He turned and saw me with a similar letter in my hands too.

"P-P-Petunia!" he gasped, pointing to me.

My aunt came over and snatched the letter out of my hands, while Dudley tried to grab the letter from his dad to read it, but Uncle Vernon held it high out of his reach. Aunt Petunia read the first line of my letter. For a moment it looked as though she might faint. She clutched her throat and made a choking noise as she hurried back to my uncle.

"Vernon! Oh my goodness -- Vernon!" 

They stared at each other, seeming to have forgotten that Harry and Dudley were still in the room, and me by the front door. Dudley wasn't used to being ignored. He gave his father a sharp tap on the head with his Smelting stick.

"I want to read that letter," he said loudly. I walked into the kitchen again.

“We want to read it," said Harry furiously, "as it's our letters!" I sent him a grateful look for including me.

"Get out, everyone," croaked Uncle Vernon, stuffing the letter back inside its envelope.

Nobody moved.

“WE WANT OUR LETTER!" Harry shouted.

"Let me see it!" demanded Dudley.

"OUT!" roared Uncle Vernon, and he took both Harry and Dudley by the scruffs of their necks and threw them into the hall. Aunt Tuney pushed me out, no less gentle than my uncle to the boys, slamming the kitchen door behind them. Harry and Dudley promptly had a furious but silent fight over who would listen at the keyhole; Dudley won, so Harry, his glasses dangling from one ear, lay flat on his stomach to listen at the crack between door and floor. I stayed where I was, frozen at the way I was treated. Never before had that happened to me. I couldn’t hear their muffled argument, and there was no room for me to eavesdrop. Finally, Uncle V raised his voice loud enough for me to hear.

"I'm not having one in the house, Petunia! Let alone two! Didn't we swear when we took them in we'd stamp out that dangerous nonsense? Besides, Aileen hasn’t shown any signs, right?" Somehow, he sounded doubtful when he said that last part.

That night, Harry was moved out of his cupboard, and into the room across the hall from me. It used to be a second bedroom for Dudley’s games. I helped Harry move everything (it only took one trip) and had a look around.

Nearly everything in here was broken. The month-old video camera was lying on top of a small, working tank Dudley had once driven over the next door neighbor's dog; in the corner was Dudley's first-ever television set, which he'd put his foot through when his favorite program had been canceled; there was a large birdcage, which had once held a parrot that Dudley had swapped at school for a real air rifle, which was up on a shelf with the end all bent because Dudley had sat on it. Other shelves were full of books. They were the only things in the room that looked as though they'd never been touched. 

From downstairs came the sound of Dudley bawling at his mother, “I don't want him in there... I need that room... make him get out...."  
Next morning at breakfast, everyone was rather quiet. Dudley was in shock. He'd screamed, whacked his father with his Smelting stick, been sick on purpose, kicked his mother, and thrown his tortoise through the greenhouse roof, and he still didn't have his room back. I sighed, wondering how long he would try to force Harry out of a room that our cousin didn’t even use, except to store his trash.

When the mail arrived, Uncle Vernon, who seemed to be trying to be nice to Harry, made Dudley go and get it. They didn’t trust me to get it since my name had been on one of the envelopes, I guess. I heard him banging things with his Smelting stick all the way down the hall. Then he shouted, "There's another one! 'Mr. H. Potter, The Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive --'"

With a strangled cry, Uncle Vernon leapt from his seat and ran down the hall, with us right behind him. Uncle Vernon had to wrestle Dudley to the ground to get the letter from him, which was made difficult by the fact that Harry had grabbed Uncle Vernon around the neck from behind. After a minute of confused fighting, in which all the boys got hit a lot by the Smelting stick, Uncle Vernon straightened up, gasping for breath, with our letters clutched in his hand.

"Go to your cupboard -- I mean, your bedroom, you too Aileen," he wheezed at us. "Dudley -- go -- just go." Then he returned to the kitchen, once again the door slamming shut.


	4. * Letters, Letters … and more Letters *

IV.

I could hear Harry walking around in his new room across the hall. I crept over, wanting to know what he was thinking.   
“Someone knew I had moved out of the cupboard,” he started when he saw me enter. “and they seemed to know we hadn't received the first letter.” I could tell he was thinking that meant they'd try again, if this morning was any indication. This time he'd make sure they didn't fail. He had a plan.

I sighed and rolled my eyes, but patiently sat there while he laid out the plan for me… 

\----------------------

The next morning, I awoke to my alarm at six in the morning. I threw on my dress robe, and quietly exited my room. I could see Harry on the stairs, already heading down.   
We were going to wait for the postman on the corner of Privet Drive and get the letters for number four first. My heart hammered as we crept across the dark hall toward the front door, Harry slightly ahead of me -

Harry leapt into the air; he'd trodden on something big and squashy on the doormat -- something alive!

Lights clicked on upstairs and to our horror, I realized that the big, squashy something had been Uncle V's face. Uncle Vernon had been lying at the foot of the front door in a sleeping bag, clearly making sure that we didn't do exactly what we'd been trying to do. He shouted at Harry for about half an hour and then told him to go and make a cup of tea. I just stood there, waiting for my own scolding, but there was none. My uncle turned to look at me, then pointedly looked away. Together, Harry and I shuffled miserably off into the kitchen, and by the time we got back, the mail had arrived, right into Uncle Vernon's lap.

I could see six letters addressed in green ink.

I want --" my brother began, but Uncle Vernon was tearing the letters into pieces before our eyes. 

Damn, foiled again. 

Uncle Vernon didn’t go to work that day. He stayed at home and nailed up the mail slot.

"See," he explained to Aunt Petunia through a mouthful of nails, "if they can't deliver them they'll just give up."

"I'm not sure that'll work, Vernon."

"Oh, these people's minds work in strange ways, Petunia, they're not like you and me," said Uncle Vernon, trying to knock in a nail with the piece of fruitcake Aunt Petunia had just brought him.

On Friday, no less than twelve letters arrived for Harry and me. As they couldn't go through the mail slot they had been pushed under the door, slotted through the sides, and a few even forced through the small window in the downstairs bathroom.

Uncle Vernon stayed at home again. After burning all the letters, he got out a hammer and nails and boarded up the cracks around the front and back doors so no one could go out. He hummed "Tiptoe Through the Tulips" as he worked and jumped at small noises. 

My uncle must be terrified at what the letters contained if he willingly missed two days of work. Saturday brought even more letters, confusing the man who delivered our eggs, who found the letters somehow stuffed in the carton.

"Who on earth wants to talk to you this badly?" Dudley asked Harry and me in amazement.

On Sunday morning, Uncle Vernon sat down at the breakfast table looking tired and rather ill, but happy.

"No post on Sundays," he reminded us cheerfully as he spread marmalade on his newspapers, "no damn letters today --"

Something came whizzing down the kitchen chimney as he spoke and caught me sharply on the back of the head. Next moment, thirty or forty letters came pelting out of the fireplace like bullets. The Dursleys ducked, Harry leapt into the air trying to catch one.

"Out! OUT!"

Uncle Vernon seized Harry around the waist and threw him into the hall, then he came back for me as I tried to snatch one off of the floor. When Aunt Petunia and Dudley had run out with their arms over their faces, Uncle Vernon slammed the door shut. We could hear the letters still streaming into the room, bouncing off the walls and floor.

"That does it," said Uncle Vernon, trying to speak calmly but pulling great tufts out of his mustache at the same time. “I want you all back here in five minutes ready to leave. We're going away. Just pack some clothes. No arguments!"

He looked so dangerous with half his mustache missing that no one dared argue. Ten minutes later we had wrenched our way through the boarded-up doors and were in the car, speeding toward the highway. Dudley was sniffling in the back seat; his father had hit him round the head for holding them up while he tried to pack his television, VCR, and computer in his sports bag.

Uncle V drove. And drove. And drove. Even Aunt Petunia didn't dare ask where we were going. Every now and then Uncle Vernon would take a sharp turn and drive in the opposite direction for a while. "Shake 'em off... shake 'em off," he would mutter whenever he did this.

I was stuck in the back seat, in between Dudley and Harry. I stared at the floor, confused as to why we had to leave. What scares Aunt and Uncle so bad that we had to leave so suddenly? What was in those letters? 

We didn't stop to eat or drink all day. By nightfall Dudley was howling. He missed five television programs he'd wanted to see, has had no food since this morning, and he'd never gone so long without blowing up an alien on his computer. 

'You poor baby,' I thought. 'Disgusting, really. You really have it tough, don’t you…'

Finally, Uncle Vernon stopped outside a gloomy-looking hotel on the outskirts of a big city. Dudley and Harry shared a room with twin beds and damp, musty sheets, and a spare mattress was thrown on the ground for me. Dudley snored but I could tell Harry was still awake. I rolled over to see him sitting on the windowsill, staring down at the lights of passing cars.


	5. * Birthday Countdown *

V. 

They ate stale cornflakes and cold tinned tomatoes on toast for breakfast the next day. They had just finished when the owner of the hotel came over to their table.

"'Scuse me, but is one of you Mr. H. Potter? O’ Ms. A. Potter? Only I got about an 'undred of these at the front desk."

She held up a letter so they could read the green ink address:

Ms. A. Potter  
Room 17  
Railview Hotel  
Cokeworth

Harry made a grab for the letter but Uncle Vernon knocked his hand out of the way. The woman stared. I smiled sheepishly, and also tried to reach for the letter addressed with my name, but Uncle V slapped my hand out of the way too.

"I'll take them," said Uncle Vernon, standing up quickly and following her from the dining room.

“Wouldn't it be better just to go home, dear?" Aunt Petunia suggested timidly, hours later, but Uncle Vernon didn't seem to hear her. Exactly what he was looking for, none of us knew. 

He drove around, sometimes stopping in the most bizzare places to have a look around: in a forest, the middle of a plowed field, halfway across a suspension bridge, and at the top of a multilevel parking garage.

"Daddy's gone mad, hasn't he?" Dudley asked Aunt Petunia dully late that afternoon. Uncle Vernon had parked at the coast, locked us all inside the car, and disappeared.

It started to rain. Great drops beat on the roof of the car. Dudley sniveled.

"It's Monday," he told his mother. "The Great Humberto's on tonight. I want to stay somewhere with a television. "

Monday. That reminded me. If it was Monday -- and I could usually count on Dudley to know the days the week, because of the television shows -- then tomorrow, Tuesday, was mine and Harry's eleventh birthday. Of course, for Harry, his birthdays were never exactly fun -- last year, the Dursleys had given him a coat hanger and a pair of Uncle Vernon's old socks. 

Still, twins didn’t turn eleven every day.

Eventually, Uncle Vernon came back, and he was smiling. "Found the perfect place!" he said. "Come on! Everyone out!"

It was very cold outside the car. Uncle Vernon was pointing at what looked like a large rock way out at sea. Perched on top of the rock was the most miserable little shack I could imagine. One thing was certain, there was no television in there.

"Storm forecast for tonight!" said Uncle Vernon gleefully, clapping his hands together. "And this gentleman's kindly agreed to lend us his boat!"

A toothless old man came ambling up to us, pointing, with a rather wicked grin, at an old rowboat bobbing in the iron-gray water below them.

"I've already got us some rations, and some protection," said Uncle Vernon, gesturing to a long thin package, "so all aboard!"

It was freezing in the boat. Icy sea spray and rain crept down my neck and a chilly wind whipped my hair around my face. After what seemed like hours of rowing, we reached the rocky shore, where Uncle Vernon, slipping and sliding, led the way to the broken-down house. I muttered a half-hearted “Thank you” to the old man, and follow my uncle, Harry occasionally grabbing my elbow to stop me from falling into the churning sea.

The inside was horrible; it smelled strongly of seaweed and mold, the wind whistled through the gaps in the wooden walls, and the fireplace was damp and empty. There were only two rooms.

Uncle Vernon's rations turned out to be a bag of chips each and five bananas. He tried to start a fire but the empty chip bags just smoked and shriveled up.

"Could do with some of those letters now, eh?" he said cheerfully.

He was in a very good mood. Obviously, he thought nobody stood a chance of reaching us here in a storm to deliver mail. I privately agreed, though the thought didn't cheer me up at all.

As the night continued, the storm seemed to strengthen. Aunt Petunia found a few moldy blankets in the second room and made up a bed for Dudley on the moth-eaten sofa. She and Uncle Vernon went off to the lumpy bed next door, while Harry and I were left to find the softest bit of floor we could and to curl up together under the thinnest, most ragged blanket. 

To say that I couldn’t sleep was a vast understatement. 

When the lighted dial of Dudley's watch, which was dangling over the edge of the sofa on his fat wrist, told me we'd be eleven in ten minutes' time, I nudged Harry from his stupor. 

Together, we lay and watched our birthday tick nearer, wondering where the letter writer was now. Five minutes to go. I heard something creak outside. Glancing at Harry, I hoped the roof wasn't going to fall in.

“It might be warmer if it did,” he tried to reason, having seen my face and guessing what I was thinking. I tried to smile, but it was more of a grimace. Harry rubbed my shoulders in comfort. Four minutes to go. Maybe the house in Privet Drive would be so full of letters when they got back that somehow we could steal one and hide it, opening it later in the night.

Three minutes to go. Was that the sea, slapping hard on the rock like that? And (two minutes left) what was that funny crunching noise? Was the rock crumbling into the sea?

One minute to go and we'd be eleven. Thirty seconds... twenty ... ten... nine – “Maybe we should wake Dudley up so just to annoy him –” Harry started.

Three... two... one...

BOOM.

The whole shack shuddered. I stared at the door. Someone was outside, knocking to come in.


	6. * I’m a WHAT?! *

VI. 

BOOM. 

Whoever it was outside knocked again. Dudley jerked awake. "Where's the cannon?" he said stupidly. If I wasn’t scared out of my mind right now, I might have found it funny.

There was a crash behind us and Uncle Vernon came skidding into the room. He was holding a rifle in his hands -- now I knew what had been in the long, thin package he had brought with us.

"Who's there?" he shouted. "I warn you -- I'm armed!"

There was a pause. Then --

SMASH!

The door was hit with such force that it swung clean off its hinges and with a deafening crash landed flat on the floor. I screamed, and jumped back, hiding behind Harry, who had thrown his arm out in order to protect me.

A giant of a man was standing in the doorway. His face was almost completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard, but I could make out his eyes, glinting like black beetles under all the hair.

The giant squeezed his way into the hut, stooping so that his head just brushed the ceiling. He bent down, picked up the door, and fitted it easily back into its frame. The noise of the storm outside dropped a little. He turned to look at us all.

"Couldn't make us a cup o' tea, could yeh? It's not been an easy journey..."

He strode over to the sofa where Dudley sat frozen with fear.

"Budge up, yeh great lump," said the stranger.

Dudley squeaked and ran to hide behind his mother, who was crouching, terrified, behind Uncle Vernon. "An' here's Harry!" said the giant. After a pause, he squinted at me. “An’ yeh mus’ be Aileen.”

I looked up into the fierce, wild, shadowy face and saw that the beetle eyes were crinkled in a smile.

"Las' time I saw you, you both was only a baby," said the giant. "Yeh look a lot like yet dad, Harry, but yeh've got yet Mum's eyes. An’ Aileen looks like a spittin’ image of Lily!" Uncle Vernon made a funny rasping noise. “I demand that you leave at once, sir!" he said. “You are breaking and entering!"

"Ah, shut up, Dursley, yeh great prune," said the giant; he reached over the back of the sofa, jerked the gun out of Uncle Vernon's hands, bent it into a knot as easily as if it had been made of rubber, and threw it into a corner of the room. So far, he had been quite friendly, but that display had me petrified of what this giant would do to a human, to me or Harry, if we did something to piss him off.

Uncle Vernon made another funny noise, like a mouse being trodden on. 

"Anyway -- Harry, Aileen," said the giant, turning his back on the Dursleys, "a very happy birthday to yeh. Got summat fer yeh here -- I mighta sat on it at some point, but it'll taste all right."

From an inside pocket of his black overcoat he pulled a slightly squashed box. Harry took the box and opened it with trembling fingers, I was looking over his shoulder. Inside was a large, sticky chocolate cake with ‘Happy Birthday Potter Twins’ written on it in green icing.

Harry and I looked up at the giant. I meant to say thank you, but the words got lost on the way out of my mouth, so Harry spoke instead.

"Who are you?" 

The giant chuckled. "True, I haven't introduced meself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts."

He held out an enormous hand and shook Harry's whole arm. Then he turned to me and did the same. I felt like Jell-O in his hands, even after the giant of a man let go.

"What about that tea then, eh?" he said, rubbing his hands together. "I'd not say no ter summat stronger if yeh've got it, mind."

His eyes fell on the empty grate with the shriveled chip bags in it and he snorted. He bent down over the fireplace; I couldn't see what he was doing but when he drew back a second later, there was a roaring fire there. It filled the whole damp hut with flickering light and I felt the warmth wash over me as though I'd sunk into a hot bath. Immediately, I moved towards the flames to get warmer, and after a slight hesitation, so did Harry.

The giant sat back down on the sofa, which sagged under his weight, and began taking all sorts of things out of the pockets of his coat: mugs and a kettle, and started on making the tea he was wanting, since the Dursleys were unwilling. He pulled out a bottle of some amber liquid that he took a swig from. I bet it’s rum or brandy, I thought off-track.

After getting started on the tea, he pulled out… sausage links? Soon the hut was full of the sound and smell of sizzling meat. Nobody said a thing while the giant was working, but as he slid the first six fat, juicy, slightly burnt sausages from the poker, I saw Dudley fidget a little. Uncle Vernon said sharply, "Don't touch anything he gives you, Dudley." The giant chuckled darkly.

"Yet great puddin' of a son don' need fattenin' anymore, Dursley, don' worry."

He passed the sausages to Harry, but he couldn't take his eyes off the giant. When the next six was done, Hagrid gave them to me. They were amazing. Even with the char on it, this was easily the best sausage I’ve ever tried. I sighed in pleasure, finally getting decent food since yesterday morning.

Finally, as nobody seemed about to explain anything, Harry broke the silence. "I'm sorry, but we still don't really know who you are." He gestured to me, and I nodded, mouth too full to properly agree.

The giant took a gulp of tea and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Call me Hagrid," he said, "everyone does. An' like I told yeh, I'm Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts -- yeh'll know all about Hogwarts, o' course.

"Er -- no," said Harry.

Hagrid looked shocked.

"Sorry," I mumbled quickly, the food having disappeared.

"Sorry?" barked Hagrid, turning to stare at the Dursleys, who shrank back into the shadows. "It' s them as should be sorry! I knew yeh weren't gettin' yer letters but I never thought yeh wouldn't even know abou' Hogwarts, fer cryin' out loud! Did yeh never wonder where yet parents learned it all?"

"All what?" asked Harry.

"ALL WHAT?" Hagrid thundered. "Now wait jus' one second!"

He had leapt to his feet. In his anger he seemed to fill the whole hut. The Dursleys were cowering against the wall.

"Do you mean ter tell me," he growled at the Dursleys, "that the twins -the twins! -- know nothin' abou' -- about ANYTHING?"

I thought this was going a bit far. We had been to school, after all, and my marks weren't bad. Harry’s weren’t too shabby either. Harry decided to make the fact known. 

"I know some things," he said. "I can, you know, do math and stuff." But Hagrid simply waved his hand and said, "About our world, I mean. Your world. My world. Yer parents' world."

"What world?" Now I was curious.

Hagrid looked as if he was about to explode. Probably should’ve kept my mouth shut.

"DURSLEY!" he boomed.

Uncle Vernon, who had gone very pale, whispered something that sounded like "Mimble - Wimble." Hagrid stared wildly at Harry.

"But yeh must know about yet Mum and dad," he said. "I mean, they're famous. You're famous."

"What? My -- my Mum and dad weren't famous, were they?"

"Yeh don' know... yeh don' know..." Hagrid ran his fingers through his hair, fixing Harry with a bewildered stare. Then he turned to me. "Yeh don' know what yeh are?" he said finally.

Uncle Vernon suddenly found his voice.

"Stop!" he commanded. "Stop right there, sit! I forbid you to tell them anything!"

A braver man than Vernon Dursley would have quailed under the furious look Hagrid now gave him (I know I did, and I didn't even receive the full dosage like my uncle did); when Hagrid spoke, his every syllable trembled with rage.

"You never told ‘em? Never told them what was in the letter Dumbledore left fer these two? I was there! I saw Dumbledore leave it, Dursley! An' you've kept it from both of ‘em all these years?"

"Kept what from us?" said Harry eagerly.

"STOP! I FORBID YOU!" yelled Uncle Vernon in panic.

Aunt Petunia gave a gasp of horror.

"Ah, go boil yet heads, both of yeh," said Hagrid. "Harry -- yet a wizard. An’ Aileen is a witch, just like yer mum."

There was silence inside the hut. Only the sea and the whistling wind could be heard.

"-- a what?" gasped Harry. All I could do was stare. A witch. Like “waving a wand, bibiti-bobbiti- boo I can do magic” witch?!

"A wizard, o' course," said Hagrid, sitting back down on the sofa, which groaned and sank even lower, "an' a thumpin' good'un, I'd say, once yeh've been trained up a bit. With a mum an' dad like yours, what else would yeh be? An' I reckon it's abou' time yeh both read yer letter."


	7. * Lil Piggy Dursley *

VII. 

I stretched out my trembling hand at last to take the yellowish envelope, addressed in emerald green to: Ms. A. Potter, The Floor, Hut-on-the-Rock, The Sea.   
I pulled out the letter and read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY  
Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE  
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Ms. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall,  
Deputy Headmistress

Questions exploded inside my head like fireworks and I couldn't decide which to ask first. After a few minutes, I broke the silence, "What does it mean, they await my owl?"

"Gallopin' Gorgons, that reminds me," said Hagrid, clapping a hand to his forehead with enough force to knock over a cart horse, and from yet another pocket inside his overcoat he pulled an owl -- a real, live, rather ruffled-looking owl -- a long quill, and a roll of parchment. With his tongue between his teeth he scribbled a note that I could read upside down: 

Dear Professor Dumbledore, 

Given the twins their letters. Taking them to buy their things tomorrow. Weather's horrible. Hope you're well.

~ Hagrid

Hagrid rolled up the note, gave it to the owl, which clamped it in its beak, went to the door, and threw the owl out into the storm. Then he came back and sat down as though this was as normal as talking on the telephone.

I realized my mouth was open and closed it quickly. I

"Where was I?" said Hagrid, but at that moment, Uncle Vernon, still ashen-faced but looking very angry, moved into the firelight.

"They’re not going," he said. Hagrid grunted.

"I'd like ter see a great Muggle like you stop him," he said.

"A what?" asked Harry. I was interested as well.

"A Muggle," said Hagrid, "it's what we call non-magic folk like them. An' it's your bad luck you grew up in a family o' the biggest Muggles I ever laid eyes on."

"We swore when we took him in we'd put a stop to that rubbish," said Uncle Vernon, "swore we'd stamp it out of them! Wizard indeed!"

"You knew?" said Harry. "You knew I'm a -- a wizard? And Aileen’s a witch?"

"Knew!" shrieked Aunt Petunia suddenly. "Knew! Of course we knew! How could you not be, my dratted sister being what she was? Oh, she got a letter just like that and disappeared off to that-that school-and came home every vacation with her pockets full of frog spawn, turning teacups into rats. I was the only one who saw her for what she was -- a freak! But for my mother and father, oh no, it was Lily this and Lily that, they were proud of having a witch in the family!"

“But then, why did you always treat Harry like dirt, but never me?” I was confused.

She looked at me and for a fraction of a second, her eyes softened. “Because you reminded me of Lily before she got the cursed letter. I never actually hated her, I – I was jealous. Only at first though. We used to be close until she started dong magic. After she started going to Hogwarts, she changed! But I was devastated when I learned Lily died. You already know that you look so much like your mother, and I remember how much I loved her. I just didn’t always show it.” Was that tears in her eyes? She never cries! “We, your uncle and I, never saw you do anything abnormal, so we thought that you would be different, like us…”

She stopped to draw a breath and then went back to ranting on Harry. 

"Then she met that Potter at school and they left and got married and had you, and of course I knew you'd be just the same, just as strange, just as -- as -- abnormal -- and then, if you please, she went and got herself blown up and we got landed with both of you!"

Harry had gone very white, and I bet my face mirrored his. As soon as he found his voice he said, "Blown up? You told us they died in a car crash!"

"CAR CRASH!" roared Hagrid, jumping up so angrily that the Dursleys scuttled back to their corner. "How could a car crash kill Lily an' James Potter? It's an outrage! A scandal! Harry an’   
Aileen Potter not knowin' their story when every kid in our world knows his name!"

Harry asked what happened, and Hagrid seemed to deflate.

"I never expected this," he said, in a low, worried voice. "I had no idea, when Dumbledore told me there might be trouble gettin' hold of yeh, how much yeh didn't know. Ah, Harry, I don' know if I'm the right person ter tell yeh -- but someone’s gotta – yeh both can't go off ter Hogwarts not knowin'."

He threw a dirty look at the Dursleys.

"Well, it's best yeh know as much as I can tell yeh -- mind, I can't tell yeh everythin', it's a great myst'ry, parts of it...."

He sat down, stared into the fire for a few seconds, and then said, "It begins, I suppose, with -- with a person called -- but it's incredible yeh don't know his name, everyone in our world knows --"

"Who? "

"Well -- I don' like sayin' the name if I can help it. No one does."

"Why not?"

"Gulpin' gargoyles, Aileen, people are still scared. Blimey, this is difficult. See, there was this wizard who went... bad. As bad as you could go. Worse. Worse than worse. His name was..." Hagrid gulped, but no words came out.

"Could you write it down?" Harry suggested helpfully.

"Nah -can't spell it.” Or not. “All right -- Voldemort. " Hagrid shuddered. "Don' make me say it again. Anyway, this -- this wizard, about twenty years ago now –”

Hagrid told us the history of Voldemort, how he got followers, how brilliant our parents were, fighting against the Dark Side (Sorry Hagrid, but this is reminding me of Star Wars. Only this time, Luke and Leia know they are twins.) Hagrid even told us the theories on how Harry survived and what people think happened to Darth Vader – I mean Voldemort – afterwards. 

By the end of it, Hagrid was crying, suddenly pulling out a very dirty, spotted handkerchief and blowing his nose with a sound like a foghorn.

"Sorry," he said. "But it's that sad -- knew yer mum an' dad, an' nicer people yeh couldn't find. An’ now their d-d-dead.” He started sobbing again. 

Something very painful was going on in my mind. As Hagrid's story came to a close, I saw a blinding flash of green light -- and I heard somethin, a high, cold, cruel laugh. Next to me, 

Harry shuddered. Maybe he’s experiencing the same thing… 

Hagrid was watching us sadly.

"Took yeh from the ruined house myself, on Dumbledore's orders. Brought yeh ter this lot..."

"Load of old tosh," said Uncle Vernon. I jumped; I had almost forgotten that the Dursleys were there. Uncle Vernon certainly seemed to have got back his courage. He was glaring at Hagrid and his fists were clenched.

"Now, you listen here, Potters," he snarled, "I accept there's something strange about you, probably nothing a good beating wouldn't have cured -- and as for all this about your parents, well, they were weirdos, no denying it, and the world's better off without them in my opinion -asked for all they got, getting mixed up with these wizarding types -just what I expected, always knew they'd come to a sticky end --"

But at that moment, Hagrid leapt from the sofa and drew a battered pink umbrella from inside his coat. Pointing this at Uncle Vernon like a sword, he said, "I'm warning you, Dursley -I'm warning you -- one more word... "

In danger of being speared on the end of an umbrella by a bearded giant, Uncle Vernon's courage failed again; he flattened himself against the wall and fell silent.

"That's better," said Hagrid, breathing heavily and sitting back down on the sofa, which this time sagged right down to the floor.

Harry, meanwhile, still had questions to ask, hundreds of them. I asked the one on both of our minds.

"But what happened to Vol--,” Hagrid flinched. “Sorry -- I mean, You-Know-Who?"

"Good question, Aileen. Like I said, he disappeared. Vanished. Same night he tried ter kill you. Makes yeh brother even more famous. That's the biggest myst'ry, see... he was gettin' more an' more powerful -- why'd he go?

"Most of us reckon he's still out there somewhere but lost his powers. Too weak to carry on. 'Cause somethin' about you finished him, Harry. There was somethin' goin' on that night he hadn't counted on -- I dunno what it was, no one does -- but somethin' about you stumped him, all right."

Hagrid looked at Harry and me with warmth and respect blazing in his eyes, but my twin-tuition said that Harry, instead of feeling pleased and proud, felt like there had been a horrible mistake. 

I knew his doubts. They were my own. A witch? Me? How could I possibly be? I had spent my life watching my brother being clouted by Dudley, and bullied by Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon; if I was really a witch, why hadn't they been turned into warty toads every time they'd tried to lock him in his cupboard? If my brother was a wizard who once defeated the greatest sorcerer in the world, how come Dudley had always been able to kick him around like a football?

"Hagrid," I said quietly, "I think you must have made a mistake. I don't think we can be a wizards." To my surprise, Hagrid chuckled.

"Not a wizard, eh? Never made things happen when you was scared or angry?"

I looked into the fire. Now I thought about it... every odd thing that had ever made our aunt and uncle furious had happened when Harry had been upset or angry... chased by Dudley's gang, he had somehow found himself out of their reach... dreading going to school with that ridiculous haircut, he'd managed to make it grow back... and the very last time Dudley had hit him, hadn't he got his revenge, without even realizing he was doing it? Hadn't he set a boa constrictor on him? But what about me? What had I done? 

Harry looked back at Hagrid, smiling, and saw that Hagrid was positively beaming at him.

"See?" said Hagrid. "The Potters, not a wizard -- you wait, you'll be right famous at Hogwarts."

But Uncle Vernon wasn't going to give in without a fight.

"Haven't I told you they’re not going?" he hissed. "They will be going to Stonewall High and they'll be grateful for it. I've read those letters and these two need all sorts of rubbish -- spell books and wands and --"

"If he wants ter go, a great Muggle like you won't stop him," growled

Hagrid. "Stop Lily an' James Potter's son an’ daughter from goin' ter Hogwarts! Yer mad. Their names’ been down ever since they was born. They’re off ter the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world. Seven years there and both o’ yeh won't know yerself. They’ll be with youngsters of their own sort, fer a change, an' they’ll be under the greatest headmaster Hogwarts ever had Albus Dumbled--"

"I AM NOT PAYING FOR SOME CRACKPOT OLD FOOL TO TEACH HIM

MAGIC TRICKS!" yelled Uncle Vernon.

But he had finally gone too far. Hagrid seized his umbrella and whirled it over his head, "NEVER," he thundered, "- INSULT- ALBUS- DUMBLEDOREIN- FRONT- OF- ME!"

He brought the umbrella swishing down through the air to point at Dudley

\-- there was a flash of violet light, a sound like a firecracker, a sharp squeal. Dudley was dancing on the spot with his hands clasped over his fat bottom, howling in pain. When he turned around, I howled in laughter. Dudley now had a pig’s tail.


	8. * Trip to Diagon Alley *

VIII. 

Uncle Vernon roared. Pulling Aunt Petunia and Dudley into the other room, he cast one last terrified look at Hagrid and slammed the door behind them.

Hagrid looked down at his umbrella and stroked his beard.

"Shouldn'ta lost me temper," he said ruefully, "but it didn't work anyway. Meant ter turn him into a pig, but I suppose he was so much like a pig anyway there wasn't much left ter do." I giggled.

He cast a sideways look at me and Harry under his bushy eyebrows. I still had tears of pure delight pouring down my face. I could see Harry give a small chuckle, but whether it was from what happened to our cousin, or how I was reacting, I couldn’t tell.

"Be grateful if yeh didn't mention that ter anyone at Hogwarts," Hagrid said when I’d calmed down. "I'm -- er -- not supposed ter do magic, strictly speakin'. I was allowed ter do a bit ter follow yeh an' get yer letters to yeh an' stuff -- one o' the reasons I was so keen ter take on the job

"Why aren't you supposed to do magic?" asked Harry.

"Oh, well -- I was at Hogwarts meself but I -- er -- got expelled, ter tell yeh the truth. In me third year. They snapped me wand in half an' everything. But Dumbledore let me stay on as gamekeeper. Great man, Dumbledore." 

"Why were you expelled?" I stopped giggling, suddenly feeling serious. 

"It's gettin' late and we've got lots ter do tomorrow," said Hagrid loudly. "Gotta get up ter town, get all yer books an' that." He took off his thick black coat and threw it to Harry and me.

"You can kip under that," he said. "Don' mind if it wriggles a bit, I think I still got a couple o' dormice in one o' the pockets."

\-----------------------------

I woke early the next morning. I laid still, soaking up the sun’s rays coming through the window. It was so peaceful; I almost didn’t want it to end.

"It was a dream,” Harry mumbled firmly. "I dreamed a giant called Hagrid came to tell me and Aileen that we were going to a school for wizards. When I open my eyes I'll be at home in   
my cupboard."

I tried not to laugh at him. I jumped when I heard a sudden loud tapping.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

"All right," Harry mumbled again, "I'm getting up."

I had already gotten up and was at the window, where an owl was waiting outside. When I opened the window, the owl swooped in and dropped the newspaper on top of Hagrid, who didn't wake up. The owl then fluttered onto the floor and began to attack Hagrid's coat.

"Don't do that," I grumbled. Hagrid won’t like a coat filled with beak tears.

Harry tried to wave the owl out of the way, but it snapped its beak fiercely at him and carried on savaging the coat. I walked to Hagrid and tried to sake him awake.

"Hagrid!" I said loudly. "There's an owl!” 

"Pay him," Hagrid grunted into the sofa.

"What?"

"He wants payin' fer deliverin' the paper. Look in the pockets." Harry tried to search through for something resembling money, but Hagrid's coat seemed to be made of nothing but pockets -- bunches of keys, slug pellets, balls of string, peppermint humbugs, teabags... finally, Harry pulled out a handful of strange-looking coins.

"Give him five Knuts," said Hagrid sleepily.

"Knuts?"

"The little bronze ones."

Harry counted out five little bronze coins, and the owl held out his leg so Harry could put the money into a small leather pouch tied to it. Then he flew off through the open window.  
Hagrid yawned loudly, sat up, and stretched.

"Best be off, yeh two, lots ter do today, gotta get up ter London an' buy all yer stuff fer school."

Harry handed me a coin, and I was turning over it over and looking at them.

"Um -- Hagrid?"

"Mm?" said Hagrid, who was pulling on his huge boots.

"We haven't got any money -- and you heard Uncle Vernon last night ... he won't pay for us to go and learn magic," Harry announced, concern lacing his words. I hadn’t even thought about that.

"Don't worry about that," said Hagrid, standing up and scratching his head. "D'yeh think yer parents didn't leave yeh anything?"

"But if their house was destroyed --"

"They didn' keep their gold in the house, girl! Nah, first stop fer us is Gringotts. Wizards' bank. Have a sausage, they're not bad cold -- an' I wouldn' say no teh a bit o' yer birthday   
cake, neither."

"Wizards have banks?"

"Just the one. Gringotts. Run by goblins."

After giving us a quick run-down of the bank, Hagrid clapped his hands. "Got everythin'? Come on, then."

We followed Hagrid out onto the rock. The sky was quite clear now and the sea gleamed in the sunlight, close to the same hade as my comforter back at Private Drive. The boat Uncle 

Vernon had hired was still there, surprisingly, with a lot of water in the bottom after the storm. Not as surprising. 

"How did you get here?" Harry asked, obviously looking around for another boat. 

"Flew," said Hagrid.

"Flew?" I questioned in astonishment.

"Yeah -- but we'll go back in this. Not s'pposed ter use magic now I've got yeh."

They settled down in the boat, Harry still staring at Hagrid, trying to imagine him flying.

"Seems a shame ter row, though," said Hagrid, giving Harry another of his sideways looks. "If I was ter -- er -- speed things up a bit, would yeh mind not mentionin' it at Hogwarts?"

"Of course not," we responded, eager to see more magic. Hagrid pulled out the pink umbrella again, tapped it twice on the side of the boat, and we were speeding off towards land.

"So has anyone tried to rob Gringotts?" I asked.

"Because of the spells -- enchantments," said Hagrid, unfolding his newspaper as he spoke. "They say there's dragons guardin' the high security vaults. And then yeh gotta find yer way -- Gringotts is hundreds of miles under London, see. Deep under the Underground. Yeh'd die of hunger tryin' ter get out, even if yeh did manage ter get yer hands on summat." I had my mouth in a small ‘o’ ever since Hagrid mentioned the dragons. 

We rode in more silence, that is until Hagrid broke it. "Ministry o' Magic messin' things up as usual," Hagrid muttered, turning the page.

"There's a Ministry of Magic?" Harry asked, before he could stop himself.

"'Course," said Hagrid. "They wanted Dumbledore fer Minister, o’ course, but he'd never leave Hogwarts, so old Cornelius Fudge got the job. Bungler if ever there was one. So he pelts Dumbledore with owls every morning, askin' fer advice." 

"But what does a Ministry of Magic do?"

"Well, their main job is to keep it from the Muggles that there's still witches an' wizards up an' down the country."

"Why?"

"Why? Blimey, Aileen, everyone'd be wantin' magic solutions to their problems. Nah, we're best left alone."

At this moment, the boat bumped gently into the harbor wall. Hagrid folded up his newspaper, and he helped us clamber up the stone steps onto the street.

Passersby stared a lot at Hagrid as we walked through the little town to the station. I couldn't blame them. Not only was Hagrid twice as tall as anyone else, he kept pointing at perfectly ordinary things like parking meters and saying loudly, "See that, Potters? Things these Muggles dream up, eh?"

"Hagrid," I gasped. Harry was panting a bit as we ran to keep up, "Did you say there are dragons at Gringotts?"

"Well, so they say," said Hagrid. "Crikey, I'd like a dragon."

"You'd like one?"

"Wanted one ever since I was a kid -- here we go."

They had reached the station. There was a train to London in five minutes' time. Hagrid, who didn't understand "Muggle money," as he called it, gave the bills to Harry so he could buy our tickets.

People stared more than ever on the train. Hagrid took up two seats and sat knitting what looked like a canary-yellow circus tent.

"Still got yer letter, Harry, Aileen?" he asked as he counted stitches. I pulled mine out of my back pocket. Harry had slept with his letter in his hand. 

"Good," said Hagrid. "There's a list there of everything yeh need."

I unfolded a second piece of paper neither of us had noticed the night before, and read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY UNIFORM:

First-year students will require:  
1\. Three sets of plain work robes (black)  
2\. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear  
3\. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)  
4\. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags

COURSE BOOKS:  
All students should have a copy of each of the following:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk  
A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot  
Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling  
A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emetic Switch  
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore  
Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger  
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander  
The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble

OTHER EQUIPMENT:

wand  
cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)   
set glass or crystal phials   
telescope   
set brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

"Can we buy all this in London?" Harry wondered aloud.

"If yeh know where to go," said Hagrid said knowing. Then he set off, and we followed behind him as best as we could.


	9. * Gringotts *

IX. 

Harry had never been to London before, and I couldn’t wait to see his reaction. Although Hagrid seemed to know where he was going, he was obviously not used to getting there in an ordinary way. He got stuck in the ticket barrier on the Underground and complained loudly that the seats were too small and the trains too slow.

"I don't know how the Muggles manage without magic," he said as we climbed a broken-down escalator that led up to a bustling road lined with shops.

Hagrid was so huge that he parted the crowd easily; all we had to do was keep close behind him. We passed book shops and music stores, hamburger restaurants and cinemas, but nowhere that looked as if it could sell you a magic wand. All the times that I had been here with Aunt Tuney , I never saw anything either. This was just an ordinary street full of ordinary people. Could there really be piles of wizard gold buried miles beneath them? Were there really shops that sold spell books and broomsticks? 

I glanced at Harry now and again. He seemed just as confused as I was. His eyes slowly lost their excitement as he began to wonder if this was some huge joke that the Dursleys had cooked up. If I hadn't known that the Dursleys had no sense of humor, I might have believed Harry on this. Yet somehow, even though everything Hagrid had told them so far was unbelievable, I couldn't help trusting him.

"This is it," said Hagrid, coming to a halt, "the Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous place."

It was a tiny, grubby-looking pub. If Hagrid hadn't pointed it out, I wouldn't have noticed it was there. The people hurrying by didn't glance at it. Their eyes slid from the big book shop on one side to the record shop on the other as if they couldn't see the Leaky Cauldron at all. In fact, I had the most peculiar feeling that only me, my twin, and Hagrid could see it. 

Before either of us could mention it, Hagrid had steered us both inside.

For a famous place, it was very dark and shabby. A few old women were sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old bartender, who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut. The low buzz of chatter stopped when they walked in. Everyone seemed to know Hagrid; they waved and smiled at him, and the bartender reached for a glass, saying, "The usual, Hagrid?"

"Can't, Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business," said Hagrid, clapping his great hand on mine and Harry's shoulders and making our knees buckle.

"Good Lord," said the bartender, peering at Harry, "is this -- can this be --?"

The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent.

"Bless my soul," whispered the old bartender, "Harry Potter... what an honor."

He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward Harry and seized his hand, tears in his eyes.

"Welcome back, Mr. Potter, welcome back."

I didn't know what to say. Everyone was looking at Harry. The old woman with the pipe was puffing on it without realizing it had gone out. Hagrid was beaming.

Nobody came over to me, didn’t even mention my name. Seems as if nobody knew who I was. Don’t get me wrong, it feels good to have people being kind to my brother, I’m glad to know that I am not the only one who’s nice to him. I just thought that we both were famous. Thinking back on last night’s conversation, I felt my heart drop. Hagrid always said Harry was famous for Voldemort’s downfall. He just said I was famous for the Potter last name…

The people in the Leaky Cauldron showered Harry in attention. When Harry mentioned the fat that he saw one of the older blokes in a store, he nearly lost his head, screaming that my brother remembers him. One bloke just kept coming up for more handshakes. 

A pale young man made his way forward, very nervously. One of his eyes was twitching.

"Professor Quirrell!" said Hagrid. "Harry, Aileen, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts."

"P-P-Potter," stammered Professor Quirrell, grasping Harry's hand, "c-can't t-tell you how p- pleased I am to meet you." He looked at me oddly, like he was surprised to see me here. I felt the corners of my mouth turn down. I had an off feeling about this man. I couldn’t place exactly what, just that his presence felt… weird.

"What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?" Hagrid’s voice brought me back to the professor in front of him.

"D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts," muttered Professor Quirrell, as though he'd rather not think about it. "N-not that you n-need it, eh, P-P-Potter?" He laughed nervously. "You'll be g-getting all your equipment, I suppose? I've g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself." He looked terrified at the very thought. If he’s supposed to teach us defense, we don’t stand a chance. This guy acts like he’s afraid of his own shadow.

Eventually, Hagrid was forced to pull us, well Harry, away from the crowds. "Must get on -- lots ter buy. Come on, Potters."  
Hagrid grinned at Harry.

"Told yeh, didn't I? Told yeh you was famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin' ter meet yeh -- mind you, he's usually tremblin'."

"Is he always that nervous?"

"Oh, yeah. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was studyin' outta books but then he took a year off ter get some firsthand experience.... They say he met vampires in the Black Forest, and there was a nasty bit o' trouble with a hag -- never been the same since. Scared of the students, scared of his own subject now, where's me umbrella?"  
Hagrid was counting the bricks. "Three up... two across,” he muttered. "Right, stand back, Potters." He tapped the wall three times with the point of his umbrella.

The brick he had touched quivered -- it wriggled -- in the middle, a small hole appeared -- it grew wider and wider -- a second later they were facing an archway large enough even for Hagrid, an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight.

"Welcome," said Hagrid, "to Diagon Alley."

He grinned at our amazement. My sour thoughts from earlier were replaced with utter fascination of the world around we had just stepped into.

The sun shone brightly on a stack of cauldrons outside the nearest shop. Cauldrons -- All Sizes - Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver -- Self-Stirring -- Collapsible, said a sign hanging over them.

"Yeah, you'll be needin' one," said Hagrid, "but we gotta get yer money first."

My head swiveled around hoping to catch a glimpse of everything at once. The shops, the things outside them, the people doing their shopping. A plump woman was complaining about the prices of some of the supplies outside an Apothecary. 

A low, soft hooting came from a dark shop with a sign saying Eeylops Owl Emporium -- Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown, and Snowy. Several boys of about our age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it. "Look," I heard one of them say, "the new Nimbus Two Thousand -- fastest ever --" There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments I had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon....

"Gringotts," said Hagrid.

We had reached a snowy white building that towered over the other little shops. Standing beside its burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, was -

"Yeah, that's a goblin," said Hagrid quietly as they walked up the white stone steps toward him. The goblin was about a head shorter than Harry. He had a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and, I saw very long fingers and feet. He bowed as we walked inside. Now I was facing a second pair of doors, silver this time, with words engraved upon them:

\---------------------------------

Enter, stranger, but take heed

Of what awaits the sin of greed, 

For those who take, but do not earn, 

Must pay most dearly in their turn.

So if you seek beneath our floors

A treasure that was never yours, 

Thief, you have been warned, beware

Of finding more than treasure there.

\-----------------------------------

"Like I said, Yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it," said Hagrid.

About a hundred more goblins were beyond those doors. All were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these. Hagrid lead us to the counter.

"Morning," said Hagrid to a free goblin. "We've come ter take some money outta the Potter's safe."

"You have their key, Sir?"

"Got it here somewhere," said Hagrid, and he emptied loads of trash out of his many pockets. After pulling out a bag – was that moldy dog biscuits? – Hagrid found the key.

"After a quick inspection of the key, the goblin grunted. "That seems to be in order."

"An' I've also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore," said Hagrid importantly, throwing out his chest. "It's about the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen." The goblin read the letter carefully.

"Very well," he said, handing it back to Hagrid, "I will have someone take you down to both vaults. Griphook!"

Griphook was yet another goblin. Once Hagrid had crammed all the dog biscuits back inside his pockets, we all followed Griphook toward one of the doors leading off the hall.

"What's the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen?" I asked.

"Can't tell yeh that," said Hagrid mysteriously. "Very secret. Hogwarts business. Dumbledore's trusted me. More'n my job's worth ter tell yeh that."

Griphook held the door open for us. I was expecting more marble, and therefor was surprised to see a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. It sloped steeply downward and there were little railway tracks on the floor. Griphook whistled and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks towards us. Once everyone climbed in -- Hagrid with some difficulty – the cart took off.

It was a maze of twisting passages. I tried to remember, left, right, right, left, middle fork, right, left, but it was impossible. The rattling cart seemed to know its own way, because Griphook wasn't steering.

My eyes stung as the cold air rushed past them, but I kept them wide open. Once, I was pretty sure I saw a burst of fire at the end of a passage and twisted around to see if it was a dragon, but too late - we plunged even deeper, passing an underground lake where huge stalactites and stalagmites grew from the ceiling and floor.

“I never know," Harry called to Hagrid over the noise of the cart, "what's the difference between a stalagmite and a stalactite?"

"Stalagmite's got an 'm' in it," said Hagrid. "An' don' ask me questions just now, I think I'm gonna be sick."

He did look very green, and when the cart stopped at last beside a small door in the passage wall, Hagrid got out and had to lean against the wall to stop his knees from trembling.  
Griphook unlocked the door. A lot of green smoke came billowing out, and as it cleared, I gasped. Inside were mounds of gold coins. Columns of silver. Heaps of little bronze Knuts.

"All yours," smiled Hagrid.

All for Harry and me -- it was incredible. The Dursleys couldn't have known about this or they'd have had it from us faster than blinking. How often had they complained how much Harry cost them to keep? And all the time there had been a small fortune belonging us, buried deep under London.

Hagrid helped the twins pile some of it into a bag.

"The gold ones are Galleons," he explained. "Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle, it's easy enough. Right, that should be enough fer a couple o' terms, we'll keep the rest safe for yeh." He turned to Griphook. "Vault seven hundred and thirteen now, please, and can we go more slowly?"

"One speed only," said Griphook.

We went even deeper, gathering speed. The air became colder and colder as we hurtled round tight corners. As we went rattling over an underground ravine, and Harry leaned over the side to try to see what was down at the dark bottom, but Hagrid groaned and pulled him back by the scruff of his neck. Vault seven hundred and thirteen had no keyhole.

"Stand back," said Griphook importantly. He stroked the door gently with one of his long fingers and it simply melted away.

"If anyone but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they'd be sucked through the door and trapped in there," said Griphook.

"How often do you check to see if anyone's inside?" Harry asked.

"About once every ten years," said Griphook with a rather nasty grin.

Something really extraordinary had to be inside this top security vault, I was sure, and we leaned forward eagerly, expecting to see fabulous jewels at the very least -- but at first I thought it was empty. Then Harry pointed to a grubby little package wrapped up in brown paper lying on the floor. I made a disappointed grunt next to him. Hagrid picked it up and tucked it deep inside his coat. 

"Come on, back in this infernal cart, and don't talk to me on the way back, it's best if I keep me mouth shut," said Hagrid.


	10. * Mr. Ollivander’s Wands *

X. 

One wild cart ride later they stood blinking in the sunlight outside Gringotts. I didn't know where to run first now that we had a bag full of money. I didn't have to know how many Galleons there were to a pound to know that together, me and Harry were holding more money right now compared to our whole life -- more money than even Dudley had ever had.

"Might as well get yer uniform first," said Hagrid, nodding toward Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. 

"Listen, Potters, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts." He did still look a bit sick, so we entered Madam Malkin's shop together, and I feeling nervous.

Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve. She gently lead me and Harry over to a stool, surrounded by mirrors. “Hogwarts, dears? And by the looks of you, must be first years,” she said as Harry stepped up onto the stool. I hung back, waiting for my turn. 

“Er- yes…” I snickered behind my hand at Harry’s reply. He shot me a look over his shoulder, but he was turned around but Madam Malkin almost immediately. He tried to shoot me a glare through the mirrors around him, but the witch kept pacing around and blocking his view of me. I bit my cheek to stop any more laughter, but Harry couldn’t miss my smirk the few times he could see me.

All too soon, my fun had to end though. It was my turn to get fitted for robes. As Harry stepped down, he muttered a quick, “Your gonna pay little sister.” I rolled my eyes and stuck my tongue at him. “In your dreams, my dear twin,” was my reply.

As Madam Malkin busied herself around me, I looked at myself in the mirror in front of me. My eyes looked really flattering in the light from the shop, highlighting the golden flecks mixed with the usual emerald green just briefly. Although my hair was unbrushed, it still looked tame (a miracle, I know). The black robes I currently wore over my clothes helped my freckles stand out even than they usually do. As my locks were pushed aside so the witch could measure around my neck, the large mole behind my ear became visible. It was dark as Harry’s hair, and roughly the size of my thumbnails stacked next to each other. 

Once she was done measuring, I covered up the mole once again, feeling self-conscious. Only a select few knew about it, and now one was a complete stranger. I tried not to dwell on these thoughts. 

Immediately after I was done, the bells over the door chimed, announcing another customer. “Well, sweetie, your all done! Just in time too,” she added as she heard the other boy talking to his mum. She gave me and Harry a bag with our robes in them, then hurried to help the next student. On our way out, I glanced at the boy. His pale skin shone under the lights, and his blonde hair seemed more of a white than yellow color. He had a sharp nose, and his blue-grey eyes flashed when he saw me. He offered me smirk, knowing I was looking at him. I gave him a small smile in return and ducked my head so he wouldn’t see my blush.

The next place we stopped at was to buy parchment and quills. Harry cheered when he found a bottle of ink that changed color as it wrote. I saw a beautiful eagle’s feather, but Harry convinced me to not buy it. “Wouldn’t want to draw unnecessary attention, now would you?” he reasoned with a chuckle. 

Hagrid bought our school books in a shop called Flourish and Blotts where the shelves were stacked to the ceiling with books as large as paving stones bound in leather; books the size of postage stamps in covers of silk; books full of peculiar symbols and a few books with nothing in them at all. Even Dudley, who never read anything, would have been wild to get his hands on some of these. Hagrid almost had to drag me and Harry away from Curses and Counter curses (Bewitch Your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue- Tying and Much, Much More) by Professor Vindictus Viridian.

"We were trying to find out how to curse Dudley."

"I'm not sayin' that's not a good idea, but yer not ter use magic in the Muggle world except in very special circumstances," said Hagrid. "An' anyway, yeh couldn' work any of them curses yet, yeh'll need a lot more study before yeh get ter that level."

Hagrid wouldn't let Harry buy a solid gold cauldron, either ("It says pewter on yer list"), but we got a nice set of scales for weighing potion ingredients and a collapsible brass telescope.   
Then we visited the Apothecary, which was fascinating enough to make up for its horrible smell, a mixture of bad eggs and rotted cabbages. Barrels of slimy stuff stood on the floor; jars of herbs, dried roots, and bright powders lined the walls; bundles of feathers, strings of fangs, and snarled claws hung from the ceiling. I couldn’t wait to get out of the shop, feeling like I was going to gag at any moment.

While Hagrid asked the man behind the counter for a supply of some basic potion ingredients for Harry and me, Harry dragged me over to examine silver unicorn horns at twenty-one Galleons each and minuscule, glittery-black beetle eyes (five Knuts a scoop).

Outside the Apothecary, Hagrid checked Harry's list again. Mine was in my jean pocket.

"Just yer wand left - A yeah, an' I still haven't got yeh a birthday present."

I saw Harry’s face go beet red. He looked how I felt.

"You don't have to --," we both began.

"I know I don't have to. Tell yeh what, I'll get yer animal. Not a toad, toads went outta fashion years ago, yeh'd be laughed at - an' I don' like cats, they make me sneeze. I'll get yeh both an owl. All the kids want owls, they're dead useful, carry yer mail an' everythin'."

Twenty minutes later, we left Eeylops Owl Emporium, which had been dark and full of rustling and flickering, jewel-bright eyes. Harry now carried a large cage that held a beautiful snowy owl, fast asleep with her head under her wing. I had a beautiful tawny owl, who hooted softly when he saw the sunlight. Harry couldn't stop stammering his thanks, sounding just like Professor Quirrell. I gently put my owl down and ran to Hagrid, giving him a hug.

"Don' mention it," said Hagrid gruffly, and I saw a faint pink hue in his exposed cheeks. "Don' expect you've had a lotta presents from them Dursleys. Just Ollivander’s left now - only place fer wands, Ollivander’s, and yeh gotta have the best wand."

A magic wand... this was what we had been really looking forward to.

The last shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivander’s: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window.

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as we stepped inside. It was a small place and empty. Hagrid chose to stay outside, saying he would take up too much room in the tiny shop. I felt as though we had entered a very strict library; the silence reminded me of one somehow. Harry was looking at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling. For some reason, the back of my neck prickled, close to my mole. It felt like the very dust and silence in here tingled with some secret magic.

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. We both jumped as an old man appeared before us, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.

"Hello," said Harry awkwardly. I offered a small wave.

"Ah yes," said the man. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. The Potter twins." It wasn't a question. "You have your mother's eyes, both of you. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work."

Mr. Ollivander moved closer to Harry. I felt bad for him. Those silvery eyes were a bit creepy.

"Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it -- it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course."

Mr. Ollivander had come so close that he and Harry were almost nose to nose. I could see Harry reflected in those misty eyes from where I stood, slightly behind my brother.  
"And that's where..."

Mr. Ollivander touched something on Harry's forehead with his long, white finger. I guessed his scar.

"I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said softly.

"Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands... well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do...."  
He shook his head and then, to Harry's relief, turned to me.

"Hmmm," said Mr. Ollivander, giving me a piercing look. "Well, now -- Ms. Potter. It’s a pleasure to see you too. I am sure you get this a lot, or will once you both reach school, but you dear are an exact replica of your mother when she was your age. And Harry over here, very much like your father. Now, let me see." He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?" 

"Er -- well, I'm right-handed," said Harry. I nodded in agreement.

"Hold out your arm. That's it." He measured Harry from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head. Then he repeated the process for me. As he measured, he said, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Potters. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."

I suddenly realized that the tape measure, which was measuring between our nostrils, was doing this on its own. Mr. Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes.

"That will do," he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. "Right then, Ms. Potter. Try this one. Redwood and unicorn hair. Fourteen inches. Light and willowy. 

Give it a wave, dear."

So I did, but a stack of wand boxes exploded next to me. A shocked eep escaped me, causing Harry chuckle at me after recovering from his own shock. 

“No matter, that happens all the time, dear. Here try this next one. Rowan and Mandrake Root. 12 and a half inches. Nice and flexible. Try this one, dear.” I waved it around hesitantly, and a flock of yellow canaries burst out. I smiled; glad I had found my wand quickly. Time to sit back and watch my twin destroy the shop.

The wandmaker handed the next wand to Harry.

“Here you go, Mr. Potter. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Quite rigid. Just take it and give it a twirl."

Harry took the wand and (looking foolish) waved it around a bit, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost at once.

"Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try --"

Harry tried -- but he had hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander. I stuck out my tongue. ‘I found my wand faster’ I mouthed. 

“At least nothing blew up,” he whispered to me when the old wizard went looking for another wand.

"Here we are, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out."

Harry tried. And tried. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the floor, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become.

"Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere -- I wonder, now - - yes, why not -- unusual combination -holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

Harry took the wand, waved it, and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like fireworks, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls. I clapped and Mr. Ollivander cried, 

"Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well... how curious... how very curious... "

He put Harry's wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering, "Curious... curious.

"Sorry sir," I said, "but what's curious?"

Mr. Ollivander fixed me, then Harry, with his pale stare.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, young Potters. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather -- just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother why, its brother gave you that scar."

We swallowed.

"Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember.... I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter.... After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things -- terrible, yes, but great."

I shivered. Mr. Ollivander was wat too creepy. After we paid for the wand, Mr. Ollivander bowed us from his shop.

\----------

The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky as Harry, Hagrid, and I made our way back down Diagon Alley, back through the wall, and back through the Leaky Cauldron, now empty. 

The trip passed by in silence. Hagrid offered to get me and Harry some dinner, to which we agreed. On the train, people were gawking, laden as we were with all the funny-shaped packages, with the snowy owl asleep in its cage on Harry's lap, and the tawny owl on the ground next to me. Up another escalator, out into Paddington station.

Hagrid bought us a hamburger at a nearby restaurant, and we sat down on plastic seats to eat. Harry kept looking around. "You all right, Harry? Yer very quiet," said Hagrid.  
Harry seemed to think about how he wanted to answer the question. Just as I thought he wouldn’t answer, he blurted out, “"Everyone thinks I'm special. All those people in the Leaky Cauldron, Professor Quirrell, Mr. Ollivander... but I don't know anything about magic at all. How can they expect great things? I'm famous and I can't even remember what I'm famous for. I don't know what happened when Vol-, sorry -- I mean, the night my parents died. And – and nobody even acknowledged Aileen… er, well, except for Mr. Ollivander."

Hagrid leaned across the table. Behind the wild beard and eyebrows he wore a very kind smile.

"Don' you worry, Harry. You'll learn fast enough. Everyone starts at the beginning at Hogwarts, you'll be just fine. Just be yerself. I know it's hard. Yeh've been singled out, an' that's always hard. But yeh'll have a great time at Hogwarts -- I did -- still do, 'smatter of fact. As for Aileen," he looked to the other twin. “Not a lot of people remember yeh. All the stories talk about Harry, not yeh. Sorry Aileen.”

I nodded, having already figured that out, based on how everyone treats me like I’m invisible. 

Hagrid helped Harry and me onto the train that would take us back to the Dursleys, then handed me an envelope.

"Yer ticket fer Hogwarts, " he said. "First o' September -- King's Cross -- it's all on yer ticket. Any problems with the Dursleys, send me a letter with yer owl, she'll know where to find me.... See yeh soon, Potters."

The train pulled out of the station. Harry wanted to watch Hagrid until he was out of sight; together, we rose in the seat and pressed our noses against the window, but when I blinked, Hagrid was gone.


	11. * Platform Nine and Three-Quarters *

XI. 

The last month with the Dursleys wasn't fun. True, Dudley was now so scared of me and Harry, he wouldn't stay in the same room, while Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon didn't shut Harry in his cupboard, force him to do anything, or shout at him -- in fact, they didn't speak to him at all. I knew Harry felt a little relieved. But everyone acted as though any chair with a Potter in it was empty. 

I was slowly becoming depressed. I went from being treated as part of the Dursley family, to being as ignored as Harry, sometimes worse. At least Harry still got dirty looks from the older relatives. I didn’t even get that. Harry could tell it was starting to affect me.

For the most part, I stayed in my room with my school supplies neatly stacked and partially packed, counting down the days until school started. I read all the course books at least four times, took notes in my journals, and even made little flashcards for future reference. I wanted to make sure I was ready for any and all things Hogwarts threw at me.

One night, I laid in bed, reading my Potions book, letting Nikias swoop out of the window as he pleased. Occasionally, he would bring a dead mouse or two back with hm, but I made sure to remove all trace of it be morning in case Aunt Tuney decided to drop-in for a surprise inspection. 

On the last day of August, I was nervous. While talking to Harry, we figured that we were going to need to get a ride from the Dursley’s in order to get to school. Since I was still being treated like I was invisible, Harry decided to speak to our aunt and uncle about getting to King's Cross station the next. He went down to the living room where they were watching a quiz show on television, and I staying by the doorway. He cleared his throat to let them know he was there, and Dudley screamed and ran from the room. I stuck my foot out as he passed, but slowed down when he saw me standing there, effectively avoiding my foot. 

Harry cleared his throat again. "Er -- Uncle Vernon?"

Uncle Vernon grunted to show he was listening.

"Er -- We need to be at King's Cross tomorrow to -- to go to Hogwarts." Uncle Vernon grunted again.

"Would it be all right if you gave us a lift?" Grunt. I supposed that meant yes.

"Thank you."

We were about to go back upstairs when Uncle Vernon actually spoke.

"Funny way to get to a wizards' school, the train. Magic carpets all got punctures, have they?" Harry didn't say anything, but I felt my cheeks begin to flush pink.

"Where is this school, anyway?"

"I don't know," I finally said something (not that it mattered), realizing this for the first time. Harry pulled his ticket Hagrid had given him.

"We just take the train from platform nine and three-quarters at eleven o'clock," he read.

Aunt Tuney and Uncle V stared.

"Platform what?"

"Nine and three-quarters."

"Don't talk rubbish," said Uncle Vernon. "There is no platform nine and three-quarters."

"It's on my ticket."

"Barking," said Uncle Vernon, "howling mad, the lot of them. You'll see. You just wait. All right, we'll take you to King's Cross. We're going up to London tomorrow anyway, or I wouldn't   
bother."

"Why are you going to London?" I asked, trying to keep things friendly.

"Taking Dudley to the hospital," growled Uncle Vernon, finally glancing in my direction. "Got to have that ruddy tail removed before he goes to Smeltings."

I woke at five o'clock the next morning and was too excited and nervous to go back to sleep. I got up and pulled on my favorite pair of blue jeans because I didn't feel like walking into the station in my new wizard robes – I decided to change on the train. I checked my Hogwarts list yet again to make sure I had packed everything needed, saw that Nikias was shut safely in his cage, and then paced the room, waiting for the Dursleys and Harry to get up. Two hours later, mine and Harry's huge, heavy trunks had been loaded into the Dursleys' car, Aunt Petunia had talked Dudley into sitting next to Harry (who was in the middle), and we set off.

We reached King's Cross at half past ten. Uncle Vernon dumped our trunks onto a cart each and wheeled it into the station for Harry. I was pushing my own cart. I thought this was strangely kind (especially towards Harry) until Uncle Vernon stopped dead, facing the platforms with a nasty grin on his face.

"Well, there you are, boy. Platform nine -- platform ten. Your platform should be somewhere in the middle, but they don't seem to have built it yet, do they?"

He was quite right, of course. My shoulders hunched over when I saw a big plastic number nine over one platform and a big plastic number ten over the one next to it. In the middle, nothing at all.

"Have a good term," said Uncle Vernon with an even nastier smile. He left without another word. We turned and saw the Dursleys drive away. All three of them were laughing. My mouth went rather dry. What on earth were they going to do? We were starting to attract a lot of funny looks, because of Hedwig and Nikias. We'd have to ask someone.

For the next half hour, me and Harry went up to multiple people asking questions about Hogwarts, Platform 9 ¾, or any train leaving at eleven. Everyone just gave us looks and walked away, muttering about us wasting their time.

I looked to the large clock over the arrivals board and saw that we had ten minutes left to get on the train to Hogwarts and we had no idea how to do it. Me and Harry were stranded in the middle of a station with trunks both of us could hardly lift, a purse (or pocket in Harry’s case) full of wizard money, and two large owls.

“Hagrid must have forgotten to tell us something. Maybe we should tap our wands – “ I started to panic, trying to think of what went wrong

At that moment, a group of people passed just behind him and I caught a few words of what they were saying. "-- packed with Muggles, of course --"  
Harry swung round, hearing the words too. The speaker was a plump woman who was talking to four boys, all with flaming red hair. Each of them was pushing a trunk like ours in front of him -- and they had an owl.

My heart hammering, Harry pushed his cart after them. They stopped and so did we, just near enough to hear what they were saying. "Now, what's the platform number?" said the boys' mother.

"Nine and three-quarters!" piped a small girl, also red-headed, who was holding her hand, "Mum, can't I go... "

"You're not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet. All right, Percy, you go first."

What looked like the oldest boy marched toward platforms nine and ten. I watched, careful not to blink in case I missed it -- but just as the boy reached the dividing barrier between the two platforms, a large crowd of tourists came swarming in front of him and by the time the last backpack had cleared away, the boy had vanished.

"Fred, you next," the plump woman said.

"I'm not Fred, I'm George," said the boy. "Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother? Can’t you tell I'm George?"

"Sorry, George, dear."

"Only joking, I am Fred," said the boy, and off he went. His twin called after him to hurry up, and he must have done so, because a second later, he had gone… his twin following not far behind. 

What? How did they do it?

"Excuse me," Harry said to the plump woman.

"Hello, dear," she said. "First time at Hogwarts? Ron's new, too."

She pointed at the last and youngest of her sons. He was tall, thin, and gangling, with freckles, big hands and feet, and a long nose.

"Yes," said Harry. "The thing is -- the thing is, me and my sister don't know how to --"

"How to get onto the platform?" she said kindly, and Harry nodded.

"Not to worry," she said. "All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don't stop and don't be scared you'll crash into it, that's very important. Best   
do it at a bit of a run if you're nervous. Go on, go now before Ron." 

"Er – okay. After you Aileen," said Harry. I threw him a dirty look as I passed, but he mouthed ‘Ladies first’ a slight smirk on his face. He wanted to see if I would crash. If I did, he would never let me live it down.

I pushed my trolley around and stared at the barrier. It looked very solid. 

I started to walk toward it, deciding to go ahead and take off at a run. I knew I was going to smash right into that barrier --- Harry would gloat – so I leaned forward on the cart, increasing my pace -- the barrier was coming nearer and nearer -- I wouldn't be able to stop -- the cart was out of control -- I was a foot away -- I closed my eyes ready for the crash --

It didn't come... I kept on running... I opened my eyes. A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign overhead said Hogwarts Express, eleven o'clock. I looked behind me and saw a wrought-iron archway where the barrier had been, seeing Harry running through with his eyes also shut, with the words Platform Nine and Three-Quarters on it.

We had done it.


	12. * Hogwarts Express *

XII. 

Smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowd, while cats of every color wound here and there between our legs. Owls cried out to one another in a disgruntled sort of way over the babble and the scraping of heavy trunks. Even Nikias let out his own little hoot.

The first few carriages were already packed with students, some hanging out of the window to talk to their families, some fighting over seats. I pushed my cart off down the platform in search of an empty seat, Harry right beside me. We passed a round-faced boy who was saying, "Gran, I've lost my toad again."

"Oh, Neville," I heard the old woman sigh.

A boy with dreadlocks was surrounded by a small crowd.

"Give us a look, Lee, go on."

The boy lifted the lid of a box in his arms, and the people around him shrieked and yelled as something inside poked out a long, hairy leg. I shuddered. 'My gods, I hope that’s not a spider!'

We pressed on through the crowd until Harry found an empty compartment near the end of the train. He put Hedwig and Nikias inside first and then, together, we started to shove and heave our trunks toward the train door. Harry tried to lift it up the steps while I held the other end but could hardly raise his end and twice he dropped it, causing my end to slip and land painfully on my foot.

"Want a hand?" It was one of the red-haired twins we'd followed through the barrier.

"Yes, please," Harry panted. I could only nod, trying to get a hold of my end of Harry’s trunk.

"Oy, Fred! C'mere and help!"

With the twins' help, Harry's trunk, then my own, were at last tucked away in a corner of the compartment.

"Thanks," said Harry, pushing his sweaty hair out of his eyes.

"What's that?" said one of the twins suddenly, pointing at Harry's lightning scar.

"Blimey," said the other twin. "Are you –” 

"He is," said the first twin. "Aren't you?" he added to Harry.

"What?" said Harry.

"Harry Potter, "chorused the twins.

"Oh, him," said Harry. "I mean, yes, I am. This is my twin sister, Aileen Potter." I waved shyly as they stood there gawking at us. Harry turned so red; I might have laughed if I wasn’t feeling just as embarrassed. To my great relief, a voice came floating in through the train's open door.

"Fred? George? Are you there?"

"Coming, Mum."

With a last look at Harry, the twins hopped off the train. I sighed, rolled my eyes, and sat down next to the window.

Harry sat down across from me. Half hidden, he could watch the red-haired family on the platform and we could both hear what they were saying through the partially opened window. 

"Ron, you've got something on your nose." I imagined she taking out her handkerchief.

"Mum – geroff" I could practically hear his struggling to get free.

"Aaah, has ickle Ronnie got somefink on his nosie?" said one of the twins.

"Shut up," said Ron.

"Where's Percy?" said their mother.

"He's coming now."

The oldest boy came striding into sight, walking from the opposite direction so I could see him. He had already changed into his billowing black Hogwarts robes, and I noticed a shiny silver badge on his chest with the letter P on it.

"Can't stay long, Mother," he said. "I'm up front, the prefects have got two compartments to themselves --"

"Oh, are you a prefect, Percy?" said one of the twins, with an air of great surprise. "You should have said something, we had no idea."

"Hang on, I think I remember him saying something about it," said the other twin. "Once --"

"Or twice --"

"A minute --"

"All summer --"

"Oh, shut up," said Percy the Prefect. I started to giggle at their antics, but Harry shushed me as the twins started to complain again.

"How come Percy gets new robes, anyway?" said one of the twins.

"Because he's a prefect," said their mother fondly. "All right, dear, well, have a good term -- send me an owl when you get there." She went on telling her children to not pull any pranks. "If I get one more owl telling me you've -- you've blown up a toilet or --" 

"Blown up a toilet? We've never blown up a toilet."

"Great idea though, thanks, Mum." Even Harry gave a brief chuckle at that one. Wow these guys must be epic pranksters! 

"It's not funny. And look after Ron."

"Don't worry, ickle Ronniekins is safe with us."

"Shut up," said Ron again. "Hey, Mum, guess what? Guess who we just met on the train?" Harry leaned back quickly so they couldn't see him looking. I shot him a look, but he just shook his head, putting a finger to his lips.

"You know that black-haired boy who was near us in the station? Know who he is?"

"Who?"

"Harry Potter! And – 

“He has a twin, just like us!"

Harry heard the little girl's voice.

"Oh, Mum, can I go on the train and see him, Mum, please...."

"You've already seen him, Ginny, and the poor boy isn't something you goggle at in a zoo. Is he really, Fred? How do you know?"

"Asked him. Saw his scar. It's really there - like lightning."

"Poor dear - no wonder he was quiet. He was ever so polite, the girl too, when he asked how to get onto the platform. You said she’s his twin sister?"

"Yeah. Do you think they remember what You-Know-Who looks like?"

Their mother suddenly became very stern.

"I forbid you to ask them, Fred. No, don't you dare. As though they need reminding of that on the first day at school."

"All right, keep your hair on." A whistle sounded.

"Hurry up!" their mother said, and I shut the window, cutting off the rest of their conversation. I looked at my brother, and I saw his exasperation. I nodded in silent agreement. “Yes, Harry, that’s what it’s gonna be like for the rest of our lives.”

The train began to move. I saw the boys' mother waving and their sister, half laughing, half crying, running to keep up with the train until it gathered too much speed, then she fell back and waved.

I watched the girl and her mother disappear as the train rounded the corner. Houses flashed past the window. I felt a great leap of excitement. Wherever we were going, I knew it had to be better than Private Drive, especially if there’s magic. 

The door of the compartment slid open and the youngest redheaded boy came in.

"Anyone sitting there?" he asked, pointing at the seat next to Harry. "Everywhere else is full."

Harry shook his head and the boy sat down. He glanced at Harry and then looked to me. He opened his mouth, about to ask a question -- 

"Hey, Ron."

The twins were back.

"Listen, we're going down the middle of the train -- Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there." Damn. Yeah, I’m not going down there.

"Right," mumbled Ron.

"Harry," said the other twin, "did we introduce ourselves? Fred and

George Weasley. And this is Ron, our brother. See you later, then.” Both twins waved good-bye to me as they shut the door.

"Bye," said Harry and Ron. 

"Are you really Harry Potter?" Ron blurted out.

Harry nodded.

"Oh -well, I thought it might be one of Fred and George's jokes," said Ron. "And have you really got -- you know..." He pointed at Harry's forehead.

Harry pulled back his bangs to show the lightning scar. Ron stared.

"So that's where You-Know-Who --"

"Yes," said Harry, "but I can't remember it." 

"Nothing?" said Ron eagerly.

"Well -- I remember a lot of green light, but nothing else."

"Wow," said Ron. He sat and stared at Harry for a few moments, then, as though he had suddenly realized what he was doing, he quickly looked away, down at his feet.   
Feeling ignored (and maybe slightly petty?), I decided to leave and find somewhere else to sit. “Harry, I’ll be back. I want to go have a look around, k?” Harry just nodded. I left the compartment, but not before I heard Harry’s question to Ron. "Are all your family wizards?" 

I walked down the corridor, peeking into the other compartments as I passed. Every single one I passed was filled with students, most were older than me, looking close to 14-17 in age. I passed by the red-haired twins from earlier, and the one boy who had the box back at the station. I hurried past before I saw exactly how big the tarantula was.

As I neared the last carriage, I thought about turning back, but seeing only three people in it, I decided to enter. 

Opening up the compartment door was a mistake.

As I slid the door open, a small dark green toad hopped out. The only boy within, jumped up shouting, “No, Trevor, come back,” before racing off. 

“Sorry!” I tried to call after him. I looked down, feeling my face heat up for the second time in the hour.

I quickly sat down in the seat closest to the door, not bothering to ask if I could. I folded my hands in my lap and stared at my feet, hoping to not embarrass myself any further on the trip to school.


	13. * First Meetings *

XIII. 

Ca-hem

One of the girls in the booth coughed to get my attention. I didn’t want them to start yelling at me for letting the boy’s frog out, so I kept staring at my feet. After a few more minutes of a tense and awkward silence, realizing they wouldn’t start in on me, I finally looked up, studying the other girls. Both were both looking out the window and looked to be my age. 

The girl sitting on the same bench as me had bushy chocolate hair and was already wearing her school robes. The girl across from her had waist length, pencil straight blonde hair. Her hazel eyes seemed to change slightly, turning green, blue, and even brown. She, too, was wearing her robes. 

Just as I was about to look down again, the brunette looked at me. She gave me a smile, and I noticed she had slightly large front teeth. I offered a slight upturn of my lips in return. 

“Hi. My name is Hermione. Hermione Granger.” She held out her hand expectantly. I shook it, and the other girl, the blonde turned to me. She also held out her hand. 

“I’m Peyton Jackson. Nice to meet you.”

I nodded and quietly told them, “Aileen Potter.”

I expected them to gasp and start grilling me on Harry, basing most of this on the other occasions when the name ‘Potter’ has come up. And indeed, Hermione gasped. 

“A female Potter. That is so cool. Are you Harry Potter’s twin? You know, in the stories of that night against You-Know-Who, you’re not mentioned. I bet you are bombarded by questions about him, your brother and You-Know-Who. – “ I flinched at her fast talking, and Peyton kicked Hermione’s shin gently to get her to stop. The bushy-haired girl blushed. 

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “I just am really excited to meet a celebrity on my first day to Hogwarts.” 

“Did I hear that right,” a new voice said. “You’re a celebrity?”

I turned to the doorway, where I had not closed the door. I recognized the blinding mop of pale blond hair, remembering the boy from Diagon Alley. He now stood outside our compartment with two other boys. Like the girls, they all wore Hogwarts robes. 

'Ok, I need to go change. I am probably the only one not dressed for school.'

The boy’s piercing eyes stared into my own. I remembered the smirk he gave me as we had left, and as though he could read my mind, he said, “You were the girl at the shop. You left right as I was being measured by Madam Malkin, weren’t you? I remember you were looking at me.” He smirked. "You had to scurry away because you were blushing so hard." His friends laughed.

I looked down, too embarrassed from that day, from being caught, and worse, remembered! I could feel my face start to heat up but tried to hide it. I peeked under my lashes at the boy, and he was staring at me, with those blue-grey, and the intensity made my stomach flip. 

Peyton, who had been quiet the whole time aside from telling me her name, stood up. “Draco, please go. Aileen isn’t comfortable yet being in the spotlight. Maybe later, after we get sorted. Now take your goonies and leave. Thank you.” She gave him a gently push on his shoulder, then sat back down.

The boy, Draco, rolled his eyes. “Fine, Jackson. I’ll see you later, Aileen.” I glanced up when he said my name, and he winked at me. He started to walk away but stopped. Turning around, he looked me over, then said, ”You look cute when you blush, by the way.” 

I forgot how to breathe...

“Thanks for that,” I told Peyton. When my embarrassment subsided, my head jerked towards Peyton. “Y- you know him? You know Draco?”

Peyton shook her head, a smile on her face. “Oh no, not you too! Everyone has a crush on him. Draco Malfoy, one of the most pure-blood families in the wizarding world. He's practically royalty around here. Merlin, it's going to be even worse at school." 

Hermione abruptly stood. “Neville’s been gone for a while. I think I’m going to help him look for Trevor,” and she was gone, shutting the door behind her.

"And, yes, I know him," Peyton continued after she left. "My older brother used to babysit him when we were younger, and I would tag along. Draco’s mum is friends with my father. They went to school together," she explained.

Peyton and I made small talk, mostly talking about what we are expecting from the school-year. We also discussed the houses and what each one meant. I learned that Peyton’s father had been in Slytherin, and her mother in Ravenclaw. Her brother had also been in Ravenclaw. She told me that her family were ‘pure-bloods’, like Draco's, explaining that it meant there were no muggles in her bloodline. When the lunch trolley rolled by, Peyton grabbed a few treats for us to share, paying for it all. I told her I would pay her back after I went back to the compartment Harry was in, but Peyton waved it off. "You can pay me ack by being my first friend here at Hogwarts."

I was stunned. "W - what about Draco?" 

"Oh, he's more of a brother to me. We practically grew up together. No, you are my first friend here, if you want to be..." Her voice trailed off towards the end. For the first time, I saw Peyton blush. 

"Um, yes! I would love to be your friend. Honestly, your my first friend here too!" I giggled, trying to break the tension. 

It worked, and we enjoyed the rest of the day together. She showed me some spells she already knew and tried to teach me some. Let's just say I would need to practice some more before I could successfully summon water from my wand without it spraying everywhere. Luckily, Peyton knew a warming spell.

I told Peyton all that I had learned from reading my Potions book, and that lead to what types of potions we like to brew the most. 

Eventually, as the sky began to darken, so I waved to Peyton and headed back to my brother. He and his friend had already dressed in their robes, but they stood outside to give me some privacy to change. Not ten minutes later, I felt the train begin to slow, signaling our arrival at Hogwarts.


	14. * The Sorting Ceremony *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is posted as two chapters on Wattpad, but decided to treat y'all with an extra long chap. Hope you enjoy!

XIV. 

A voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

My stomach lurched with nerves and Ron, I saw, looked pale under his freckles. I rolled my eyes as they crammed their pockets with the last of the sweets. 

The train slowed right down and finally stopped. People pushed their way toward the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform. From the gloom of the night, I heard a familiar voice ring out: "Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right there, Potters?"

Hagrid's big hairy face beamed over the sea of heads. I beamed at him and ran to give him a hug. He chuckled. “Good te see yeh too, Aileen. C'mon, firs' years, follow me --- any more? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

Slipping and stumbling, everyone followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. I had moved closer to Peyton and Hermione. We whispered to each other how nervous we were, until, eventually, we reached a sandy shore of a vast lake. 

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. I saw Harry and Ron get into a boat and were followed by Neville and another boy with sandy hair. I was in the boat next to Harry with Peyton, Hermione, and another blonde witch.

"Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself. "Right then -- FORWARD!"

And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was whispering, but fell silent as Hagrid called out, . "Ye' all get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec, jus' round this bend here."

I couldn’t help it. "Oooooh!"

Perched atop a high mountain on the other side of the lake, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

"Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; we all bent our heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. We were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until we had reached a kind of underground harbor, where we clambered out onto rocks and pebbles.

"Oy, you there! Is this your toad?" said Hagrid, who was checking the boats as people climbed out of them.

"Trevor!" cried Neville blissfully, holding out his hands. Then we began to clamber up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid's lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle.

I walked up a flight of stone steps alongside my new friends, then crowded around the huge, oak front door.

"Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?"

Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.

The booming echoed in the cavern us first years were waiting in. Then, the door swung open to reveal a tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes. She had a very stern face and my first thought was that this was not someone to cross. I was getting super strict vibes from her.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

She opened the door farther and lead us to the entrance hall. It was so big you could have fit the whole of the Dursleys' house in it. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing us led to the upper floors. 

We followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. I distantly heard the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right -- the rest of the school must already be here -- but Professor McGonagall showed us first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. We had to crowd in, standing rather closer together than we would usually have done, peering about nervously.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history –”

I droned out her voice, choosing instead to study the others around me. Peyton was on my left, Hermione next to her. Off to the left, slightly in front of me, was my brother with the youngest red-head boy. Neville, the boy that I made loose his toad (NOT on purpose!), was between me and Harry. I quickly turned my head, facing the students behind me, in case he turned and saw me. 

The pale boy, Draco, drew my eye. Once again, he caught me staring at him. I tried to avert my eyes, hoping that I was quick enough for him to think it was a causal glance around. Of course, I was too slow, and he gave me another one of his smirks. Trying to hold back my blush I knew was going to form, I turned back to Professor.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."  
Her eyes seemed to linger for a moment on Neville's cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and on Ron's smudged nose. I saw Harry as he nervously tried to flatten his hair.  
"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."

She left the chamber. I swallowed. Suddenly, this felt more real than it did on the train. 

As the students shifted around, waiting, I saw Draco move forwards. Next to me, Peyton muttered a small, “Well, schist…”

I turned to watch him walk up to Harry. "Is it true?" he said. "They're all saying that Harry Potter's finally come to Hogwarts. So it's you, is it?"

"Yes, me and my twin sister," was all Harry said. He looked at the other boys. Both of them were thickset and looked extremely mean. They seemed to stand like bodyguards around Draco. I felt my heart sink. This was not going to end well.

"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," said the pale boy carelessly, also noticing where Harry was looking. "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."  
Ron gave a slight cough, which might have been hiding a snigger. I looked at him, so did Draco.

"Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford."  
He turned back to Harry. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you  
there. Your sister too, if you want." He pulled one of his classic smirks and held out his hand. 

Harry didn't take it. "I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," he said coolly.

Draco Malfoy didn't go red, but a pink tinge appeared in his pale cheeks. Now who’s the one blushing? I couldn’t help thinking.

"I'd be careful if I were you, Potter," he said slowly. "Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid, and it'll rub off on you. Pass it on to your sister," he spat. 

I froze in anger. How dare he say something about our parents! What did Harry do to Draco to have him say such things? I started to march forward to give that boy a piece of my mind, but Peyton held me back. “Don’t worry about it. Soon enough he’ll regret his words,” she tried to console me. When that wasn’t going to work, she changed her approach. “Besides, don’t want to get detention on the first day of term, do you?” I sighed and nodded.

I relaxed, but immediately jumped when several people screamed.

I gasped. So did the people around us. About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one  
another and hardly glancing at the first years. They seemed to be arguing. What looked like a fat little monk was saying: "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance --"

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost -- I say, what are you all doing here?"  
A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first years, but nobody said a thing.

"New students!" said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?"

A few people nodded mutely.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. "My old house, you know."

"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."

Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.

"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me."

\-------------------------------------------

(XV.)

As everyone began to walk, I moved closer to Harry. 

"How exactly do they sort us into houses?" he muttered to Ron.

"Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking."

My heart gave a horrible jolt. A test? In front of the whole school? But I didn't know any magic expect what Peyton tried to teach me, but it was terrible! What on earth would we have to do? I looked around anxiously and saw that everyone else looked terrified, too. No one was talking much except Hermione Granger, who was whispering very fast about all the spells she'd learned and wondering which one she'd need. 

I tried hard not to listen to Hermione’s muttering. I don’t remember ever being more nervous. I tried to keep my eyes, forward as we walked through the hall, Draco’s hurtful words echoing in my head. Peyton must have noticed, because she whispered, “He’s a jerk. Sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. But It’s not like he meant that. He doesn’t know that you are Harry’s twin. How could he, you look nothing alike! He would never dare say that to your face.” 

I tried to smile at her attempt to cheer me up, but also wondering what the last part was supposed to mean. “It’s not that he said it without knowing me, it’s the fact that he said those things in the first place.” I shook my head. “He believes every word he told Harry.”

“It’s because nobody has taught him any better than that,” was all she could whisper before we entered the Great Hall.

I had never even imagined such a strange and splendid place that was the Great Hall. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. Despite how scared I was, I couldn’t help but wonder how we would get our food later. Maybe it will be like in Beauty and the Beast, where the silverware dance around and the food serves itself. I began to (unconsciously) hum ‘Be Our Guest’.

At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led us up here, so that we came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at me looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, I looked upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. I heard Hermione whisper, "Its bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History."

It was hard to believe there was a ceiling there at all, and that the Great Hall didn't simply open on to the heavens. It was kind of reassuring to know that it was only bewitched. I’d hate to have to eat in the rain.

Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the rest of first years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. I almost giggled. Aunt Tuney wouldn't have let it anywhere near her house. 

Maybe we had to try and get a rabbit out of it, I thought wildly, hearing Ron try to explain the sorting to Harry. Noticing that everyone in the hall was now staring at the hat, along with most of the other first years, I stared at it, too. For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth -- and the hat began to sing:

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find 

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall, 

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't see, 

So try me on and I will tell you 

Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve, and chivalry 

Set Gryffindors apart.

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuff’s are true 

And unafraid of toil. 

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw, 

if you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind.

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folk use any means 

To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!

And don't get in a flap!

You're in safe hands 

(though I have none)

For I'm a Thinking Cap!"


	15. * There are two Potters?? *

XVI. 

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.

"So we've just got to try on the hat!" I heard Ron whisper to Harry. "I'll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll." I silently chuckled, remembering the pair of red-haired twins from the train.

I couldn’t help but wonder what house I would fit in. The hat seemed to be asking rather a lot; I didn't feel brave or quick-witted or any of it at the moment.

My musing was cut short when Professor McGonagall stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moments pause --

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. I saw the ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at her.

"Bones, Susan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah. "Boot, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them.

" Brocklehurst, Mandy" went to Ravenclaw too, but "Brown, Lavender" became the first new Gryffindor, and the table on the far left exploded with cheers; I could see the twin brothers catcalling.

"Bulstrode, Millicent" became a Slytherin.

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Sometimes, I noticed, the hat shouted out the house at once, but at others it took a little while to decide. "Finnigan, Seamus," the sandy-haired boy next to Harry in line, sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor.

"Granger, Hermione!"

Hermione almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head.

"GRYFFINDOR!" shouted the hat. I could hear Ron’s groan from where I was.

A horrible thought struck me, drowning out the other students being sorted. What if I wasn't chosen at all? What if I just sat there with the hat over me eyes for ages, until Professor McGonagall jerked it off my head and said there had obviously been a mistake and I’d better get back on the train? I mean, I don’t even remember doing anything magical, unlike Harry. He had done loads!

“Jackson, Peyton.”

She walked up to the stool, and I moved closer to my brother, waiting for my new friend to be sorted. After a brief moment, and a slight nose wrinkle from Peyton, the hat announced “Gryffindor!”

I saw the Draco boy roll his eyes, his foot tapping the floor anxiously. When he felt my gaze on him, though, his foot slowed to a stop.

When Neville Longbottom, the boy who kept losing his toad, was called, he fell over on his way to the stool. The hat took a long time to decide with Neville. When it finally shouted, "GRYFFINDOR," Neville ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it to "MacDougal, Morag."

Next was “Malfoy, Draco.” He swaggered forward and the hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, "SLYTHERIN!"

Malfoy went to join his friends Crabbe and Goyle, looking pleased with himself.

After a few more name that I couldn’t care to keep up with, my name was finally next. 

“Potter, Aileen.”

Whispers broke throughout the hall, and I saw Draco jerk his head to look at me, a look of pure shock adorned his pale face. I heard people say things like:

“Potter? I thought the name was Harry, not Aileen…”

“Isn’t Potter supposed to be a boy?”

“There’s more than one Potter!? How come I've never heard of her?”

The last thing I saw before the hat dropped over my eyes was the hall full of people craning to get a good look at me, and Harry’s encouraging smile. Next second I was looking at the black inside of the hat. I waited.

Hmm," said a small voice in my ear, making me jump. I’m pretty sure I heard some muffled laughter from the older students. "Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, yes, you’re quite talented. My goodness, what’s this?” 

I felt a pit form in my stomach. 

“You feel like you don’t belong. You realized that there hasn’t been any outbursts of magic from you yet. Or so you seem to think… How interesting! How very interesting… So where shall I put you?" 

I held my breath; the silence was beginning to become deafening.' I just want to belong,' I thought desperately.

“If you want to belong, might as well place you in GRYFFINDOR!"

I heard the hat shout the last word to the whole hall. I took off the hat and walked shakily toward the Gryffindor table. As I passed Harry, I gave him a quick hug, and he smiled. I also glanced at Draco from across the hall. He looked… disappointed?

Percy the Prefect got up and shook my hand vigorously when I walked over, while the Weasley twins yelled, "We got a Potter! We got a Potter!" seeing as they already met us on the train. I sat down opposite the ghost in the ruff I had seen earlier. The ghost patted my arm, giving me the sudden, horrible feeling I'd just plunged it into a bucket of ice-cold water. I tried to shake the feeling off as Harry’s name was called and he walked up. 

He sat down. Not but mere minutes after the hat being placed, it called out “GRYFFINDOR!” just like it had for me.

I clapped just as enthusiastic as everyone else, and could hear the Weasley twins shouting, ”We got both Potters!” as they too jumped and congratulated the newest house member.


	16. * The Welcome Feast *

XVII. 

The rest of the students, including Ron, were sorted quickly after that. Ron came in sat down next to Harry, who was across from me. I had sat down Peyton and Hermione. Once the last kid was sorted to Slytherin, Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away.

I looked down at my empty gold plate. I just realized how hungry I was. The pumpkin pasties Peyton shared with me seemed ages ago.

Albus Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see us all there.

"Welcome," he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

"Thank you!"

He sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered. I didn't know whether to laugh or not.

"Is he -- a bit mad?" Harry asked Percy uncertainly.

"Mad?" said Percy airily. "He's a genius! Best wizard in the world! But he is a bit mad, yes. Potatoes, Harry?"

My mouth fell open. The empty dishes in front of me were now piled with food. I had never seen so many things I liked to eat on one table: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and, for some strange reason, peppermint humbugs.  
The Dursleys had never exactly starved Harry, but he'd never been allowed to eat as much as he liked. Dudley had always taken anything that Harry really wanted, even if It made him sick. So I helped Harry piled his plate with a bit of everything except the peppermints. Then I did the same to my plate, and together, we began to eat. It was all delicious.  
"That does look good," said the ghost in the ruff sadly, watching me cut up my steak.

"Can't you --?"

“I haven't eaten for nearly four hundred years," said the ghost. "I don't need to, of course, but one does miss it. I don't think I've introduced myself? Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service. Resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower."

"I know who you are!" said Ron suddenly. "My brothers told me about you -- you're Nearly Headless Nick!"

"I would prefer you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy --" the ghost began stiffly, but sandy-haired Seamus Finnigan interrupted.

"Nearly Headless? How can you be nearly headless?"

Sir Nicholas looked extremely miffed, as if our little chat wasn't going at all the way he wanted.

"Like this," he said irritably. He seized his left ear and pulled. His whole head swung off his neck and fell onto his shoulder as if it was on a hinge. I screamed, and everyone in the hall looked startled, trying to see why. Those around me started to laugh when they realized it was just the ghost and his trick. 

Someone had obviously tried to behead him, but not done it properly. Looking pleased at the reaction of stunned looks on our faces (and my scream), Nearly Headless Nick flipped his head back onto his neck, coughed, and said, "So -- new Gryffindors! I hope you're going to help us win the house championship this year? Gryffindors have never gone so long without winning. Slytherins have got the cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron's becoming almost unbearable -- he's the Slytherin ghost."

I looked over at the Slytherin table and saw a horrible ghost sitting there, with blank staring eyes, a gaunt face, and robes stained with silver blood. He was right next to Draco, who didn't look too pleased with the seating arrangements.

"How did he get covered in blood?" asked Seamus with great interest.

"I've never asked," said Nearly Headless Nick delicately.

When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the remains of the food faded from the plates, leaving them sparkling clean as before. A moment later the desserts appeared. Blocks of ice cream in every flavor you could think of, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate eclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, Jell-O, rice pudding -- 

As Harry helped himself to a treacle tart, the talk turned to their families.

"I'm half-and-half," said Seamus. "Me dad's a Muggle. Mum didn't tell him she was a witch 'til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him."

The others laughed.

"What about you, Neville?" said Ron.

"Well, my gran brought me up and she's a witch," said Neville, "but the family thought I was all- Muggle for ages. My Great Uncle Algie kept trying to catch me off my guard and force some magic out of me -- he pushed me off the end of Blackpool pier once, I nearly drowned -- but nothing happened until I was eight. Great Uncle Algie came round for dinner, and he was hanging me out of an upstairs window by the ankles when my Great Auntie Enid offered him a meringue and he accidentally let go. But I bounced -- all the way down the garden and into the road. They were all really pleased, Gran was crying, she was so happy. And you should have seen their faces when I got in here -- they thought I might not be magic enough to come, you see. Great Uncle Algie was so pleased he bought me my toad."

I didn’t mean to, but I ended up inhaling my pumpkin juice trying to hold back my laugh. I snorted so hard, it shot out of the cup and all over Harry’s face. Everyone around blinked in surprise, then started rolling over at the bewildered look on my twin’s face. I was laughing too, offering him my napkin so he could clean up as best as he could. 

Harry glanced up to the Professor’s table, and muttered a quick, “ouch!” I gave him a questioning look, but he shook it off. I heard him ask Percy about one of the professors and looked at the table to see which one he was talking about. Hagrid was drinking deeply from his goblet. Professor McGonagall was talking to Professor Dumbledore. Professor Quirrell, in his absurd turban, was talking to a teacher with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin. There was also a considerable short man up there, who I learned was Professor Flitwick, according to Percy. 

At last, the desserts too disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The hall fell silent.

"Ahern -- just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. (Are we plants?) I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.

"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."

Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins. I stifled my chuckle, seeing as the hall was dead silent. 

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Harry laughed, but he was one of the few who did. I shot him a glare. A painful death does not sound even remotely funny to me.

"He's not serious?" I muttered to Percy.

"Must be," said Percy, frowning at Dumbledore. I shot Harry a panicked look. "It's odd, because he usually gives us a reason why we're not allowed to go somewhere -- the forest's full of dangerous beasts, everyone knows that. I do think he might have told us prefects, at least." Noticing my look, he tried to reassure. “Don’t worry. I’m sure it’s nothing, but best to   
avoid the corridor, I think.”

Dumbledore seemed to have one more thing to add. “Now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

The hall filled with the sound of creaking boards as the student body collectively rose to head to their common rooms.

The Gryffindor first years followed Percy through the crowds, out of the Great Hall, and up the marble staircase. My legs felt like lead, but only because I was so tired and full of food. I was too sleepy even to be surprised that the people in the portraits along the corridors whispered and pointed as they passed, or that twice Percy led them through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries. Everything was dulled through the haze of sleep. Waking up early this morning was not such a great idea now. 

I saw a bundle of walking sticks was floating in midair ahead of us but chucked it up to my sleep-deprived mind. It wasn’t until Percy took a step toward them and they started throwing themselves at him that I realized they were real.

"Peeves," Percy whispered to all the first years. "A poltergeist." He raised his voice, "Peeves -- show yourself"

A loud, rude sound, like the air being let out of a balloon, answered.

"Do you want me to go to the Bloody Baron?"

There was a pop, and a little man with wicked, dark eyes and a wide mouth appeared, floating cross- legged in the air, clutching the walking sticks. 

"Oooooooh!" he said, with an evil cackle. "Ickle Firsties! What fun!" He swooped suddenly at them. We all ducked.

"Go away, Peeves, or the Baron will hear about this, I mean it!" barked Percy. 

Peeves stuck out his tongue and vanished, dropping the walking sticks on mine and Neville's heads. I heard him zooming away, rattling coats of armor as he passed.

"You want to watch out for Peeves," said Percy, as we set off again, my rubbing my head to massage the pain away. "The Bloody Baron's the only one who can control him, he won't even listen to us prefects. Here we are."

At the very end of the corridor hung a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress.

"Password?" she said. "Caput Draconis," said Percy, and the portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. We scrambled through it -- Neville needed a leg up -- and found myself in the Gryffindor common room, a cozy, round room full of squashy armchairs.

Percy directed us girls through one door to our dormitory and the boys through another. I waved a sleepy good-bye and climbed the winding stair to the dorm door marked First Year. Inside, I found our beds at last: five four-posters hung with deep red, velvet curtains. My trunk had already been brought up. Too tired to talk much, I pulled on my pajamas and fell into bed, not bothering on knowing my room mates. 

'I’ll do it tomorrow…' I thought as I drifted to sleep.


	17. * Ummm... Professor? *

XVIII. 

" ... It was a mistake for you to come here… now you are no longer safe, little Potter. I will have my revenge! "

\---------------------------------

I jerked awake, still hearing the malicious whispers from my dream. I shivered, feeling a sudden cloud of evil descend around me. I rolled out from beneath my blankets, sitting on the edge of my bed. I took the time to look around the dorm room for the first time.

Next to my bed was the floor-to-ceiling window, showing the pinkish hue of the sunrise over the mountains, perfectly reflected over the lake. I couldn’t help but admire the view. 

The other beds were arranged diagonally into the corners of the room. Each girl had a small bedside table, placed on the left-hand side of the respective beds. Peyton’s bed was between mine and Hermione’s. Across the room was my other two roommates. I think their names were Lavender and Parvati. The door to the bathroom was next to the one that lead down to the common room. I watched as the sun rose higher into the sky, and after about an hour, I decided now would be a good time to take a shower.

Inside had ivory white floors and striped red and dull gold walls. All the facets seemed to be dipped in pure gold. The basin was wide and deep, easily enough room for three people to wash their hands / face at once. The mirror covered the entire side wall, with two covered showers in the back. Benches were piled near the towel rack; deep yellow with  
‘Gryffindor Rules!’ written in red cursive. Wow, talk about House pride…

I jumped into the shower, relishing in the hot water. While my body relaxed in the steam, I mentally prepared myself for the day.

Finished with washing myself, I stopped the water and quickly put my wet and unruly hair into quick twin dutch braids. Stepping out of the tub, I wrapped a towel around my body. Once I made sure it was secure, I brushed my teeth and walked back to my bed. Seeing my trunk laying at the base, I rifled through until I found the uniform we were supposed to wear. Some nearby rustling sounds alerting me that my companions were waking. 

I pulled out my white button-down shirt and pleated grey (or was it black?) skirt. I tilted my head, considering if I should put on the tights, but thought better of it since it’s still technically summer. Adding my flats and school robe, I rubbed my hair with the towel to dry it some more, hoping the water didn’t drip too much onto my clothes.

“Hey Peyton, Hermione, you guys done yet? I’m hungry!” I called to them. 

I heard one of them groan. “Why are you such a morning person? It’s not even seven in the morning!” A pillow flew at me from Peyton’s bed. I laughed as I threw it right back at her. 

Glancing at Hermione as she sat up in bed, she motioned to her blankets, then to our friend. Nodding my understanding, I crept to the bed. Peyton had her back to me.

Grabbing the corner, I yanked her bedspreads off, running across the room from her. She bolted up, shivering in the morning air. 

“No fair! Aileen! Give me my blankets back. Right NOW!” She chased me, still in her nightgown, but I dashed down the stairs towards the common room. I jumped onto the couch and stuffed her covers behind me, grinning the whole time. 

A few minutes later, Hermione came down and told me that Peyton was in the shower. I reluctantly stood, gathering everything together, and followed Hermione back to the dorm. I replaced the sheets and stepped back right as Peyton entered again, grumbling about rude wake ups on the first day of school.

“Hey, I’ve seen worse. This one time, Harry didn’t get up, my Aunt Tuney –”

“Harry? Like Harry Potter? That famous boy in our year?” 

I turned to see our other two roommates standing in the bathroom doorway. The one who interrupted looked at me in pure disbelief. Her friend seemed just as skeptical. I nodded. 

They shared a look, and said together, “You know the Harry Potter?”

“Umm, well yeah. He’s my brother –” I tried to say, but their squealing cut me off.

“D’ya think you could introduce us? Can you get us autographs? What’s he like? Ooh, I can’t wait to meet him at breakfast!” I just stared as they rushed back into the bathroom to get ready. Looking at my friends, I raised an eyebrow. “That was – interesting, to say the least,” Hermione commented with a poorly contained smirk.  
I rolled my eyes. Grabbing their hands, I muttered, ‘C’mon, let’s go. Hopefully, I can warn Harry about those two.” The girls chuckled as we made our way down the stairs. 

We passed by a girl wearing a badge like Percy’s and asked her how to get to the Great Hall. Sadly, none of us had paid attention on our way out last night. She pointed to a group of students already leaving and told us to just follow them down. While walking, I paid closer attention to my surroundings, awed by the moving portraits and staircases around me. Twice Hermione had to grab my arm and steer me the right direction. 

Inside the Great Hall looked the same as the night before. The four tables each only held a handful of people. As we sat down, a little ways off from the group we followed, I wondered where everyone was at. To answer my unspoken question, Peyton yawned. “Class doesn’t st-start until 9.”

“Oops,” I muttered, only slightly sorry. 'I might just go back to bed,' I briefly thought. But I remembered to bits of my dream, that creepy voice, and decided against it. Piling my plate with eggs, bacon, sausage, and toast, me and my new friends talked about what our first day was going to be like. After filling my plate again, the strict teacher, Professor McGonagall, approached. She handed each of us a piece of parchment. 

“This is your schedule for the year, girls. As you can see –”

I didn’t want to interrupt, but I felt like I had to. “Umm, professor? My paper is blank.”

The other students around us laughed. Professor McGonagall gave them a stern look, then turned to me. “Yes, Ms. Potter. I am quite aware. If you would listen to what I was saying.” She tapped my paper with her wand, then repeated it for my friends. “These are your lessons for the year. I expect you to make it to all of your classes on time, and to do your best. Have a good day ladies.” She walked off to preform her duties among the rest of the students who had just arrived, my brother among them.  
Whispers started up the second he walked in. I looked to my friends, and it’s like Hermione read my mind. “C’mon, let’s go explore. I don’t want to be late for our first class!” She grabbed my hand, then Peyton’s and started to lead us from the Hall. 

“Thanks,” I told her. “I am never gonna get used to all of the attention people give him now. I – I am usually the one in the spotlight, but now I’m getting ignored… Don’t get me wrong, I love that he isn’t being treated like dirt, like he was at home, but… I don’t know –”

“You would like someone to know your there, know you’re not hidden,” Peyton finished. I looked at her and nodded, shocked. How did she know?  
It was Peyton’s turn to nod. “Yup, I know how that feels. When I was younger, my brother had all the attention. Nobody seemed to care if I was right next to him, they would just push me out of the way, trying to get to him. It was annoying, but I learned to deal with it. Hopefully, once I get older, people will start to notice me.”

Hermione had been quiet, so I turned to her. “What about you, ‘Mione? Any advice for us?”

She looked at me, then Peyton. “Be careful who you let close to you. Some may only want to be your friends just to get close to Harry. Friends and attention are great but be careful who you give it too.” She said it so seriously, I couldn’t help but laugh. Seeing her hurt look, I stopped. 

“Thanks ‘Mione. I’ll remember that.” After a pause, I grinned. “So, are y’all only my friends to get close to my brother?”

We all laughed as we headed to class. 


	18. * Morning Post *

XIX. 

We walked the halls trying to the Transfiguration classroom. After getting lost on the 2nd floor, an older student showed us the way to class, back on the first floor. Outside the door was McGonagall, waiting to greet her early students. When she saw us, and our escort, she called, “Thank you Mr. Diggory for escorting my students. Ten points to Hufflepuff. Now run along before your late to class.” 

I rushed into the class, taking a seat in the back. 

Hermione sighed. I looked at her and she motioned for a spot right in front of the professor’s desk. I furrowed my eyebrows. “Ummm, I’m good. I prefer to not sit in the front row?” I meant to simply say it, but my words came out more like a question.

“Yeah, same, 'Mione. But you can sit up there if you want,” Peyton tried to pacify. “We can always talk after class.”

When the bell rang for the start of class, Professor McGonagall was nowhere to be seen. Somehow, a tabby cat with markings (almost like glasses) around her eyes walked into the classroom and jumped onto the desk. “McGonagall is not gonna be happy with that cat,” I whispered to Peyton, and I swear that the feline gave me a look. 

We were sitting for a few minutes when I suddenly jerked my head away from Peyton. She threw me a startled look, which I ignored. Glancing around the room, I blurt out, “Where’s Harry? Where is my brother?” 

They ended up rushing into the silent classroom 10 minutes later. They were huffing like they had just run a marathon. As Ron passed me, he muttered to Harry, “Good thing McGonagall isn’t here – “

He was cut off as the cat on the desk jumped down and morphed into our professor. I couldn’t hold back my gasp of surprise. Ron’s face turned as bright as his hair.

“Mr. Weasley, I don’t tolerate students being late for my class. 5 points from Gryffindor. Perhaps I should transfigure Mr. Potter and yourself into pocket watches?” 

If it was possible, Ron’s face flushed even more. “But professor, Ron and I got lost,” Harry tried to help out his friend. I shook my head slightly. 'This boy.'

If possible, McGonagall’s face became sterner. “Then I should turn you into a map.” She raised her eyebrows. “I trust you don’t need one to find your seats.” Harry and Ron sat in the only open desks available, right next to Hermione.

“Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she said. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned." She demonstrated by turning the desk into a pig, then back again. I was impressed, ad Peyton let out a low whistle. A few students even clapped. But everyone groaned when McGonagall told us that we weren’t doing that kind of magic for a while. 

After taking a lot of complicated notes, we were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle. By the end of the lesson, only Hermione and Peyton had made any   
difference to their match; Professor McGonagall showed the class how it had gone all silver and pointy and gave the girls a rare smile.

The class everyone had really been looking forward to was Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Quirrell's lessons turned out to be a bit of a joke. We walked into his classroom that first day, and it smelled strongly of garlic. People tried to tell me it was to ward off a vampire he'd met in Romania and was afraid would be coming back to get him one of these days. His turban, he told us, had been given to him by an African prince as a thank-you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but I wasn’t sure I believed this story. For one thing, when Seamus Finnigan asked eagerly to hear how Quirrell had fought off the zombie, Quirrell went pink and started talking about the weather; for another, I had noticed that a funny smell hung around the turban, and the Weasley twins insisted that it was stuffed full of garlic as well, so that Quirrell was protected wherever he went. 

After what Peyton showed me on the train, I thought I would be miles behind everyone. I was relieved to find that was not the case. Lots of people had come from Muggle families and, like me and Harry, hadn't had any idea that they were witches and wizards. There was so much to learn that even people like Ron didn't have much of a head start.

That didn’t stop Hermione from trying though. After dinner every night, she would put her nose in one of our schoolbooks in attempts to get ahead of everyone the next day in class.   
After reading through the book, she would go up into the dorm and practice until we went to bed. Peyton and I tried to tell her it wasn’t necessary, but she wouldn’t listen.   
Three times a week we went out to the greenhouses behind the castle to study Herbology, with a dumpy little witch called Professor Sprout. There we learned how to take care of all the strange plants and fungi and found out what they were used for. It was my first class with another house, the Hufflepuffs, but it was quite fun.

By midweek, the news had already circled around the school that Harry Potter was actually at the school, but it didn’t stop the Charms teacher, Professor Flitwick (a tiny little wizard who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk), from toppling from his seat and out of sight when he called role the first time. 

Easily the most boring class was History of Magic, which was the only one taught by a ghost. According to the rumors, Professor Binns had been an extremely old man when he had fallen asleep in front of the staff room fire. He got up next morning to teach and left his body behind him. 

Binns droned on and on while we tried to scribble down names and dates from the past, and I think I got Emetic the Evil and Uric the Oddball mixed up.

It was so hard to stay awake in his class, him monotone voice seemed to take me right to dreamland, especially since we have to stay up late Wednesday night’s to study the night skies through our telescopes and learn the names of different stars and the movements of the planets.

Finally, Friday came around. When me and my friends went down for breakfast, I was surprised to see Harry and Ron already there. “It took a week, but at least they made it here without getting lost, it seems,” Hermione murmured. 

I stifled my laugh. I don’t know what happened between the two, but it seems like Hermione and Ron can’t stand to get along. Me and Harry could barely spend any time together this week: school work is harder than I anticipated, and the feud with our friends dampening our interactions. I sighed as I sat down, keeping Hermione on my side furthest from Ron.

"What have we got today?" I heard Harry asked him, and Ron answered, saying, "Double Potions with the Slytherins. Snape's Head of Slytherin House. They say he always favors them -- we'll be able to see if it's true."

"Wish McGonagall favored us, " Harry muttered. Professor McGonagall was head of Gryffindor House, but it hadn't stopped her from giving us a huge pile of homework the day before. I grumbled into my cereal, thinking about all the homework I’d have this weekend, and it was only the first week!

Thinking about Potions class later today, I suddenly felt like someone was watching me. I looked up from my food, and saw Draco? I hadn’t thought about him since the Sorting Ceremony. His eyes seemed to glow silver with the morning sun shining in them. I couldn’t look away, and Draco threw me a genuine smile, not his usual smug smirk. I gave a small smile in return.

“Why are you blushing?” Hermione suddenly asked. 

I looked away from the Slytherin table, confused. “I am not blushing. What gives you that idea?”

Hermione glanced across the table to Peyton, but she shrugged, munching on her toast. Hermione turned back to me. “Your face is red, and you were smiling,” she pointed a finger at me. “I think you like someone.” 

I was saved from answering with the arrival of the mail. It had given me quite the scare earlier in the week to see about a hundred owls had suddenly streamed into the Great Hall during breakfast, circling the tables until they saw their owners, and dropping letters and packages onto their laps. Peyton’s screech owl, Archimedes, landed in my porridge the second day of term, the first time I actually saw the mail come in. 

I saw Archimedes fly through the Hall today. I grabbed my bowl of Frosted Flakes and stood up, backing away from the table. And it’s a good thing I did. I heard Peyton yell a quick, “Archie!” before her owl crash landed where I had previously ad my breakfast. Once the owl had trotted over to his owner, stepping all over Hermione’s eggs and nipping at her bacon, I reluctantly sat down again. I peeked at Draco, hoping he hadn’t seen that, but he was laughing so hard, I swear I could see the tears from across the Great Hall. 

Peyton gasped. “Guys, look!” 

She showed us the enormous package of sweets her parents must have sent. Inside were chocolate frogs, cauldron cakes, acid pops, and sugar quills. But there was also quite a few things of muggle candy: Snickers, Milky Way, Twix (my favorite) and a mix of M&M’s and Bertie Bott’s Every Flavored Beans. Hermione’s face lit as Peyton passed each of us a little of everything. 

Before we could really dig in, the first bell rang; we had five minutes to make it to the dungeons. Looking woefully at my pile, I decided to stuff it into my bag to eat later, whenever I had a chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a few more chapters already pre-written, and I am currently working on new ones. I would like to update often, but unfortunately, I am kinda busy right now. Financial troubles, my brother's b'day (He turns 15) on top of doing my summer assignments for school. 😥 My plan is to update at least one chap every few days, maybe even once a week.
> 
> Thank you readers for leaving kudos and reading my work. 
> 
> Leave comments if you feel like it! Please don't stay silent readers the whole time...


	19. * Potions *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello readers!   
> I think I found a way to fix my problem of no being able to use italics. This is my first time using this new setting, so bear with me if it doesn't work out.
> 
> Anyways. I'll be doing a double update today, so I hope you enjoy!

XX.

It was colder here than up in the main castle and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls. Both Hermione and Peyton shivered, but oddly enough, I felt right at home. Weird. 

When the teacher walked in, I recognized him as the one with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin. Professor Snape.

Snape, like Flitwick, started the class by taking the roll call, and like Flitwick, he paused, this time, on my name.

"Ah, Yes," he said softly, "The Potters. Our new -- celebrities."

Draco Malfoy and his friends Crabbe and Goyle sniggered behind their hands. Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. His eyes were black like Hagrid's, but they had none of Hagrid's warmth. They were cold and empty and made me think of dark tunnels. Very dark tunnels.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but we all caught every word -- like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses.... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death -- if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

More silence followed this little speech. I exchanged looks with my friends, each of us with raised eyebrows. Hermione, I saw, was on the edge of her seat and looked desperate to start proving that she wasn't a dunderhead.

"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

I looked to my brother wondering if he wanted to answer. He gave me a blank look, so I lifted my chin and said, “Asphodel and wormwood make a powerful sleeping potion known as the Draught of – um… “

“ -- Living Death, Ms. Potter. The Draught of Living Death,” Snape actually looked mildly impressed before his sneer came back. He asked his next question. "Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Hermione stretched her hand as high into the air as it would go without her leaving her seat, and Harry didn't have the faintest idea what a bezoar was. He once again gave me a blank stare, but I was hesitant to answer.

“Umm, a bezoar is a kidney stone from a goat, right? It is used as an antidote… I think,” I finished in a whisper, the whole class was now looking at me.

Once again, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Snape was stunned. “It will save you from most poisons, yes. 5 points to Gryffindor.” 

I sneaked a look at Draco, his face a look of pure disbelief. I checked Peyton’s face, but she looked just as dumbfounded. I tried not to blush. I got the impression that Snape didn't usually give points out to Gryffindors. 

Snape was still ignoring Hermione's quivering hand as he asked his next question. "What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

At this, Hermione stood up, her hand stretching toward the dungeon ceiling. I felt bad for her, but before I could say anything, Harry spoke up.

"I don't know," he said quietly. "I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her? Or have my twin answer again. She seems to know the answers to this kind of thing."

I stared at Harry. Was that a hint of _jealousy_ in his voice? Him? Jealous? The Boy Who Lived is jealous of his forgotten twin sister for remembering what I’d read when I was completely ignored back home? No, I don’t believe it.

Harry seemed to realize what he said, _how_ he said it, and looked at me apologetically. I was seething. I stood up so fast that my chair slid back and toppled over. “Aileen, I’m sorry. I – “

“No Harry,” I started. “I don’t want your apology. Ever since we’ve known that we were magical, people have come up to you, acting like you are one of the superstars on the telly back home. Even when they get to the point of pushing me away from you, which you completely ignored I might add, all I tried to do was be happy for you. At least you were not being shunned by the Dursley’s anymore. You were finally happy,” my voice trembled a bit, and my vision blurred. “But the second that I find somewhere I fit in, where I am noticed, _you_ get jealous? Yeah, thanks for supporting me, brother.”

By now, I could feel my tears running down my face. I grabbed my bag, thankful I hadn’t unpacked anything, then stormed out. Dimly, over the roaring in my ears, I heard Professor Snape say, “Ms. Jackson, please follow her. Make sure – “ before I slammed the door shut behind me.

I hid in the nearest bathroom after that, silently crying and cursing myself. I have never acted like that, and never to Harry. He’s my older brother, even if it is just by a few minutes. After the Dursley’s completely abandoned me once we found out I was a witch, Harry was the only one who would hang out with me.

Remembering the last month in Surrey caused me fall to the floor in a disheveled heap as my grief poured out in a flood of uncontrollable tears, a wail bursting out from my lips.

“Aileen? Is that you?” I heard the door creak, then quick footsteps coming to a stop outside the stall I was in. A soft rap, and Peyton’s softer voice. “Can I come in?”

I didn’t answer but unlatched the door for her. She opened it and dragged me out. “Ok, ok! I’m up. Quit pulling me!”

She let go of my arm once I was standing in front of the grubby mirrors. Peering past the filth and grime, I noticed my red-rimmed eyes. As I tried to stop the waterworks, I distracted myself with Peyton.

“Y-you followed m-me?”

“Shhh,” she rubbed my back in small circles. “Yes I did. Snape let me. Everyone felt bad for you, I think. Some people are starting to realize how it must suck for you, constantly being ignored and sometimes pushed away. You are now put on the map.”

I gave a shaky laugh. “Yeah, I bet.”

She gave me a sly look. “I know someone else who took more notice of you today, too, during class.”

“Who?”

“Draco.”


	20. * Peeves! *

XXI.

The rest of the day I tried to avoid Harry. Sometime after lunch, he disappeared, so I guess that only helped me. At dinner, I tried to keep my head down. Everywhere I looked, it seemed people were looking and pointing at me, obviously talking about what I did in Potions today.

Sometimes I would look over to Draco, and he once gave me a concerned look, but I shook my head. He tried to mouth something to me, but I shrugged with a look that clearly said, “Can’t lip read.”

As soon as my plate cleared, I dashed from the Hall, headed for the Common Rooms, where I could hopefully make it to my dorm, and bed, unnoticed. Mostly.

I was waiting on one of the revolving staircases when I felt a pair of hands on my shoulders. I leapt forward, a yelp coming out as I almost fell over the edge. The hands on my shoulders slid to my elbows to steady me. Turning around, I found myself face to face with Draco Malfoy.

“Hey,” he says, almost breathlessly.

“Hi,” I squeaked.

He laughed as he let me go, taking a step back. He stuffed his hands in his robes pockets, shuffling his feet. “So, um, about today,” he started. I held up my hand to stop him. “I would prefer to not talk about it. I normally don’t lash out like that, and I am feeling bad for how I acted today. So… could we not talk about it?”

He stared at me for a minute, then seemed to snap out of his thoughts. His head bobbed in a nod. ”Yeah, yea that’s fine. Yeah, ok.”

Insert awkward pause.

When the stair stopped moving, he offered his arm, like a prince from a fairytale. “Can I escort you to your dorm, Darling?” he asked, adding an accent on the ‘r’ like they do in American movies.

I couldn’t hold back my giggle. “Why, of _course_ you can, my kind sir.”

I loped my arm through his and we walked off to the common room door. Draco grabbed my hand and gently pressed his lips to it, his eyes never leaving mine. I turned my head, breaking the contact and hoping the shadows would hide my blush, and I felt his smirk against my knuckles. I pulled away and smacked his arm lightly. “Oh, Aileen, why do you always blush around me. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you had a crush on me.”

“Don’t be daft, Draco. I am a Gryffindor, noble and brave. How could I _ever_ fall for a dubious Slytherin prince like yourself.” I tried to smile to let him know I was only joking, but I guess it came out more at a grimace.

Draco turned suddenly serious. “We can be friends. I promise that I will never do anything to hurt you Aileen. And I will never be jealous of anything that you do... You are perfect the way you are,” he added a little awkwardly. 

“Thank you Draco,” I whispered, looking at my feet. “Well, I guess I’ll go off to bed now. Goodnight.”

He just stood there. I rolled my eyes. “Draco, I am not going to say the password with you right here. You may like me, as a friend,” I added hastily, “but the other, older Gryffindors wouldn’t take it too well.” I gave him a pointed look.

“Oh, right. Well… I’ll get going.” He shuffled his feet, then too quick for me to react, leaned forward to softly kiss my cheek. “Good night Aileen.”

I stood at the portrait for a while, dazed at what just happened. Finally the woman in the painting cleared her throat. “Darling child, are you going to give me the password or not. Oh, and don’t fret. I won’t tell the others what that boy did.” She winked.

“Caput Draconis,” I whispered, stumbling over his name. The lady smirks and sends another wink my way as I stumbled over the threshold. Inside, people gathered around the various couches and chairs, their homework spread along the tables, and some on the floors. I vaguely thought that I should get to work now, knock some of my workload out of the way, but I headed up the stairs and directly to my bed. Pulling my robes off, I changed into my jammies and slid into bed.

For the first time since Draco kissed my cheek, I smiled. My last thought before sleep claimed me for the night was: _my gods! Draco_ kissed _me!_

Whatever bliss I found before bed was long gone.

_Little Potter, yesss… It was a mistake for you to come here… now you are no longer sssafe, little Potter. I will have my revenge!_

The snake lie whisper slithered into my dreams sometime during the night. I felt it slither over my mind, seep out of my head and curl around my neck, tightening slowly as it did. I thrashed, trying to shake it off, loosen it somehow. Eventually it slipped away, leaving me gasping for air. I shivered, but not because of the night’s chilly air. I snuggled back into bed, once again letting unconsciousness claim my mind.

By morning, I forgot all about my “nightmare.”

Saturday morning came with a rude jolt. A continuous jolting that seemed to have a voice.

“Wake up, Aileen! Your gonna miss breakfast. Get up! Get up! Get up!” the voice chanted, a second one joining in.

“Fine, give me a mo,” I grumbled into my pillow, pulling my covers over my head to block the noise.

“No, now,” was all the warning I received before my blanket was yanked from me, sending me toppling to the cold bare floor.

“Now you know how it feels,” Peyton’s sing-song voice rang out. I groused about how easily mates turn to prats, which caused Peyton and Hermione to laugh even harder. I shook off my bad mood in the blazing hot shower, coming out in a much better mood than before.

I blindly grabbed my uniform to put on, but Peyton intercepted. “Today is Saturday. Put on something casual. But hurry! I want to eat before tackling all this bloody homework.”

I sighed. “Fine. I’ll be done in a minute.” I grabbed a pair of faded denim jeans and a sky blue tee. I pulled on some socks and my worn Chuck Taylors, then stood. “Ok, let’s go eat.”

There was a commotion in the common room as we headed for the exit.

"Just what I always wanted,” I heard Harry mutter darkly. “I get to make a fool of myself on a broomstick in front of Malfoy. I’ve been looking forward to learning to fly more than anything else.”

“Malfoy made Potions class terrible for Harry after you two … left,” Hermione explained. “Snape criticized Harry’s work, even taking points away from him. Malfoy just sat there and laughed the entire time, then preened whenever Snape complimented any of his work.” 

“I’m not surprised that Harry and Draco don’t get along,” Peyton said as we walked out. “There has always been a feud between the two Hou – arrrg!”

I jumped away from Peyton as Peeves dumped a cauldron full of a bubbling green mixture, splattering all over Peyton’s head. She opened her mouth to yell ay the poltergeist, and some of the potion slid into her mouth. 

“Gross. So gross,” she spat. Glaring at the trouble maker, she yelled, “Seriously Peeves! I’ll get you back. That tasted like … like –” she suddenly stopped.

I had been too busy looking at Peeves to notice the change at first. By the time I realized something was wrong with Peyton, it was too late. Where my friend stood, there was a mountain of her platinum blonde hair.


	21. * The Library… and Gossip? *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess I am doing a double double update 😅  
> I went to update on Wattpad, and saw that it was a chap ahead of this one on AO3. Well, since I am updating today, might as well make sure both sights have the same number of chapters! So, here are two more chaps for y'all!

XXII.

I scrambled closer to where my friend had stood. “Peyton? Peyton? Are you in there?”

A pair of pale, slender arms shot out of the hair mass, reaching towards me. I heard a whimpering sound come from within. Grabbing one of my friend’s hands, Hermione followed, holding the other. Together, we helped guide Peyton towards the Infirmary. By the time we had traveled the two stories up, and one wing over, the hairy mound that was my friend was trailing behind us, almost like a giant bridal’s trail. Hermione ran through the doors ahead of us, pushing the door open.

“Madam Pomfrey! Are you in here? We need your help!” Hermione called out. There was a bang from the adjacent room, then a motherly sort of witch came bustling out.

“Oh, heavens me! Wh-what happened? Oh, never mind, come on, dearie. Up onto the cot now. “

I helped Peyton into the nearest bed, and Madam Pomfrey hurried off to the other room. When she returned, she held a vibrant purple potion in hand. “I need your help girls. Try to clear the hair away from her face. This should help by reducing the hair,” she gently shook the vial.

Hermione and I gradually pulled back layer after layer of hair. Each time we pulled away some, another two or three layers sprang up. After much struggling, we opened up a space large enough for the Matron to slip the antidote down Peyton’s throat. “Now back up, the potion should kick in soon.” She left as another student came through the doors.

The hair started to retreat at a snail’s pace, but eventually, Peyton’s scared face poked through the mane.

“Peyton? Are you ok? I promise you; we will get Peeves back for that. Maybe we should make his toe-nails grow, just like he did with your hair. Or maybe we should…. We could…” I thought out loud. “Umm, Hermione, help me out.”

I heard the breathy laugh that Peyton had. “No, no,” she cried shaking her head. “It’s fine really. He does it to everybody, according to my brother. It was just my turn... and he shocked me. Definitely didn't expect him to do that. Can we head back to the tower to start on our homework? Maybe the twins can smuggle us some food from the kitchens. ”

For the rest of the weekend, we spent our time in the common room or the Library. The first time we went to the library, I was speechless. The musty halls were filled with long bookshelves, arranged to provide hundreds of narrow rows to pass through. It was a paradise: tens of thousands of books, stacked on thousands of shelves, across multiple floors. On the second floor up, a full quarter in the back was blocked with red ropes. The Restricted Section, where the books were so advanced, filled with evil and grotesque concepts, only students with a pass from their Head of House could check out a book.

“I’ve died and come to heaven!” I finally whispered in awe. Hermione stood beside me, her jaw dropping as she spun, taking in the pure awesomeness of that many books in one place.

On my other side, Peyton scoffed. “I swear, you and books. I’ll never understand.”

Doing our homework took the rest of Saturday (we took a brief break to go down for lunch but rushed back almost immediately. I was so impatient to return, I ate my sandwich in the hall going back), before calling it quits when the dinner bell rang. Promising to return the next day, we quietly said goodbye to the (extremely strict) librarian, Madam Pince.

Me and 'Mione woke up before the rest of the other girls, making our way to the Library. It was barely sunrise, but Madam Pince had the door crack, a note telling us to come in, but, and I quote “Don’t dare make a peep. I want silence until the morning meal bell sounds.”

We ended up staying there until mid-afternoon, and only left because Peyton came in and pulled us away from the table we set up in a corner.

“But I want to know more about dragons! Let me finish the last paragraph, Peyton!” I cried as I was yanked from the table. “Please!”

Peyton didn’t release her hold on me. “No, Aileen. All you and Hermione did this weekend was ‘study’. These books aren’t even related to what we’ve gone over in class. No, it’s time for you to have some social interaction and sunlight. Come on, we are going to the lake.”

By the time classes started on Monday, the flying lessons later was all anyone would talk about. Draco complained loudly about first years never getting on the house Quidditch teams and told long, boastful stories that always seemed to end with him narrowly escaping Muggles in helicopters. I was skeptical about his stories, particularly when Peyton would whisper in my ear that his family estate was in the middle of nowhere, warded with anti-muggle spells, and surrounded by mountains. She claims that he only knows the word ‘helicopter’ was because she once read a magazine about it and told him when their mothers were out shopping.

He wasn't the only one, though: the way Seamus Finnigan told it, he'd spent most of his childhood zooming around the countryside on his broomstick. Even Ron would tell anyone who'd listen about the time he'd almost hit a hang glider on Charlie's old broom. Everyone from wizarding families talked about Quidditch constantly. Ron even had a big argument with Dean Thomas, who shared the dormitory with Harry and Ron, about soccer. Ron couldn't see what was exciting about a game with only one ball where no one was allowed to fly. I gave up trying to explain after 15 minutes of his blank looks.

Neville had never been on a broomstick in his life, because his grandmother had never let him near one. Privately, I felt she'd had good reason, because Neville managed to have an extraordinary number of accidents even with both feet on the ground.

Hermione was almost as nervous about flying as Neville was. This was something she couldn't learn by heart out of a book -- not that she hadn't tried. At breakfast on Thursday she bored us all stupid with flying tips she'd gotten out of a library book called Quidditch Through the Ages. Neville was hanging on to her every word, desperate for anything that might help him hang on to his broomstick later.

I hadn’t really thought of the flying part much. I was more preoccupied with the fact that we were with the Slytherins. Ever since Friday night, Draco avoided even looking at me during the meals. Worse was Monday’s Potions class. Professor Snape paired me and Peyton at Draco’s table (he was with one of his friends, Goyle I think…) and the entire class period was spent in a tense silence. Peyton would cast looks between me and her childhood friend, but that was all. When the bell rang, I handed in my potion and turned, but Draco had raced out the dungeons.

“I have never known Draco act like that. What happened between you two? That had to be the tensest I’ve _ever_ seen him, and that’s saying a lot.” I felt like I was being interrogated by Peyton. “So…,” she continued while Hermione walked ahead, probably to talk with Neville. “Spill. Now.”

I hesitated, wondering if I really should. “Well, after dinner on Friday,” I started. “H-he walked me to the tower…”

Peyton was hanging on to my every word. “Yeah, then what happened? What did he do?”

“We… talked about, um, stuff,” I hedged. When my friend let out an impatient sigh, I chuckled. “Ok, ok, sorry. No, we were talking about what happened in class. And, um, when we reached the portrait, we said good night, but he was still standing there, so I told him to go away, I wasn’t about to tell him our password. Then, he – he…”

Peyton’s eyes were wide. “He kissed you, didn’t he?” she whispered. I nodded.

“But it was only --”

“Draco kissed you!” She exclaimed louder. “I knew it. I knew it. I _knew_ he had a crush on you! Wait until I tell --”

I pressed my palm against her mouth, muffling the rest of her sentence, noticing the looks she (and me too) were getting. “Don’t tell anyone, Peyton! And it wasn’t like that. He just kissed my cheek, like a good-night kiss… I don’t think he likes me like that. We are barely even friends!”

She nodded, but as soon as I removed my hand, she told me in a low voice, “Whatever you believe, Aileen. You don’t see what I see.”


	22. * The Remembrall *

XXIII. 

Thursday came rather quickly this week, or maybe it just seemed that way. Hermione was giving Neville last minute reminders and tips about flying and brooms in general. I could tell from everyone’s face they were getting very annoyed at her constant prattling. I was too. I tried to drown out her voice as I munched on my bacon. I thought I had perfected my technique, but as it turns out, Hermione stopped talking due to the arrival of the mail.

I hadn’t gotten a single letter, but Nikias would still come to visit once a week. Here decided to come today. He gracefully landed on the table in front of me, mindful of the food around him (unlike a certain owl who shall remain nameless, I might add). I rubbed the spot on his head he liked as I fed him some of my bacon scraps. He hooted his thanks, gently nicking my fingers, before taking off again. 

For a moment, I peered at the table on the far end, just in time to see Draco’s eagle owl swoop down, a package undoubtably filled with sweets from home, similar to all the other times he had received mail.

I brought my gaze back to the Gryffindor table. A barn owl brought Neville a small package from his grandmother. He opened it excitedly and showed us a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke.

"It's a Remembrall!" he explained. "Gran knows I forget things -- this tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red -- oh..." His face fell, because the Remembrall had suddenly glowed scarlet. "You've forgotten something..."

Neville was trying to remember what he'd forgotten, me and Hermione occasionally offering suggestions, when Draco Malfoy passed by the Gryffindor table. He snatched the Remembrall out of Neville’s hand.

Harry and Ron jumped to their feet. They seemed to be half hoping for a reason to fight Malfoy, but Professor McGonagall, who could spot trouble quicker than any teacher in the school, was there in a flash.

"What's going on?"

"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor."

Scowling, Malfoy quickly dropped the Remembrall back on the table.

"Just looking," he said, and he sloped away with Crabbe and Goyle behind him. I slumped my shoulders, giving up on the brief, tiny, not-really-there hope he had come to talk to me. Suddenly, he turned back.

“Pey – Jackson, you dropped something,” he nodded to a scrap of parchment on the floor behind us. Peyton didn’t even have her schoolbag at the table, so I knew it wasn’t hers. Peyton just stared at the pale-haired boy, their eyes flashing in a silent conversation. I thought I saw Draco’s eyes dart to me, but I chalked it up to my imagination.

Peyton sighed, giving in to Draco. Reaching behind her, she said, “Thanks, Dray. See you later for flying lessons.”

He gave his signature smirk, maybe one last towards me, then he left.

“Is it just me, or was Malfoy looking at you, Aileen?” Hermione asked, choosing to speak when the table had quieted down, her voice carrying to Harry, seated a couple of people down. Harry sent me a confused, almost worried look. “Why is Malfoy looking at you?”

“He wasn’t,” Peyton butted in. “He was _clearly_ looking at you, Hermione. He told me he has the hots for you.” She winked for good measure, the kind of wink that told our Housemates she was only joking. Still, it didn’t stop the flicker of jealousy that shot through me.

After breakfast, we headed to Charms. Peyton tugged on my robes, a wordless plea to slow down. As I let Hermione and the others pull ahead, Peyton slipped me the paper. “Read it when your alone,” was all she told me before she sped up, trying to catch up with Hermione.

I stood there for a while, then ducked into the bathroom close by. Checking that all the stalls were empty, I sat on the counter. Opening the crumpled piece of parchment, I saw unfamiliar handwriting, definitely not Peyton’s. It was a strong and bold, but also smooth, not quite cursive, yet similar to it. Masculine for sure.

I read the short note, my stomach filling with butterflies in the end.

Aileen,

Meet me after flying lessons, please. I want to talk to you .

Peyton can come if you want, but no one else! Meet me outside the Great Hall??

~ D

At three-thirty that afternoon, me, Harry, and the other Gryffindors hurried down the front steps onto the grounds for our first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under our feet as we marched down the sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the forbidden forest, the trees swaying in the distance.

The Slytherins were already there, as well as twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground. Harry told me that he had heard Fred and George Weasley complain about the school brooms, saying that some of them started to vibrate if you flew too high, or always flew slightly to the left.

Our teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived curtly after we did. She had short, gray hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

I glanced down at my broom. It was old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles. Peyton’s and Hermione’s didn’t look that much better.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!"'

"UP!” everyone shouted.

My broom jumped into my hand at once, but it was one of the few that did. Hermione's had simply rolled over on the ground, and Neville's hadn't moved at all. Harry’s and Draco’s had leapt into their hands as well. Peyton’s came up on her second command.

 _Perhaps brooms, like horses, could tell when you were afraid,_ I mused. There was a quaver in Neville's voice that said only too clearly that he wanted to keep his feet on the ground.

Madam Hooch then showed us how to mount the broom without sliding off the end and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. Harry and Ron didn’t try to hide their delighted looks when she told Draco he'd been doing it wrong for years.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle -- three -- two --"

But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.

"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle. I saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom and --

WHAM -- a thud and a nasty crack and Neville lay face down on the grass in a heap. I cried out, wanting to rush to his side but Peyton held my arms, keeping me back. Madam Hooch rushed over though, and was bending over Neville, her face as white as his. All the while, his broomstick rose higher and higher, and drifted lazily toward the forbidden forest and out of sight.

I felt like I was going to be sick.

"Broken wrist I bet," Peyton muttered.

"Come on, boy -- it's all right, up you get." Madam Hooch coaxed Neville to a stand. Then she turned to the rest of the class.

"None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear."

Neville, his face tear-streaked, clutching his wrist, hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had her arm around his shoulders.

Neville’s stunt had me more worried about flying did than all of Hermione’s facts about deaths per year related to broomstick accidents, or whatever else she read in her books. What if something like that happened to me? Or Harry?

Draco burst into laughter as soon as the duo were out of sight. Literal tears of mirth ran down his pale face. "Did you see his face, the great lump?"

The other Slytherins joined in, just as equally amused.

"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Parvati Patil.

"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" said Pansy Parkinson, a pug-faced

Slytherin girl. "Never thought you'd like fat little crybabies, Parvati."

Peyton shot her a look of disdain. “It’s not about liking the kid, Pansy. What happened to him was terrible. Maybe it’ll happen to you… then we’ll see who’s laughing,” she spat. The look of shock was worth it in my books.

"Look!" said Malfoy, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him." The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up.

“Draco don’t! That’s –"

"Give that here, Malfoy," Harry interrupted. Everyone stopped what they were doing to watch.

Draco smiled nastily, his ‘evil’ smirk at its fullest.

"I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find -- how about… up a tree?"

"Give it here!" Harry yelled, but Malfoy had leapt onto his broomstick and taken off. I couldn’t help but be amazed, he really could fly. Hovering level with the topmost branches of an oak he called, "Come and get it, Potter!"

Harry grabbed his broom.

"No!" me and Hermione shouted. Hermione stomped over in front of Harry. "Madam Hooch told us not to move -you'll get us all into trouble."

“Besides, I don’t want anything to happen to you, Harry. What if you fall? Harry, _please_ don’t do this!” I begged him.

Harry ignored us. He mounted the broom and kicked hard against the ground and up, up he soared. After a pause, he pulled his broomstick up a little to take it even higher. I screamed, Peyton gasped and Ron let out an admiring whoop.

Harry turned his broomstick sharply to face Draco in midair.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say Malfoy looked stunned,” Peyton whispered.

"Give it here," Harry called, "or I'll knock you off that broom!"

"Oh, yeah?" said Malfoy, trying to sneer, but, to me at least, looked worried.

I have no idea how Harry knew what to do, seeing as this was our first lesson. Maybe Ron told him something? Anyways, he leaned forward, grasping the broom tightly in both hands, and it shot toward Draco like a javelin. He only just got out of the way in time; Harry made a sharp about-face and held the broom steady. A few people were clapping around me. I glared at them, but nobody paid me attention. Even Peyton was looking up, my arm in a death grip between her hands.

"No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy," Harry called.

The same thought seemed to have struck Malfoy. _Was that a gulp I saw?_

"Catch it if you can, then!" he shouted as he threw. The ball rose high into the air and streaked back toward the ground.

I saw as though in slow motion, the ball rise up in the air and then start to fall, Harry leaning forward, pointing his broom handle down… the gathering speed in a steep dive, racing the ball… the screams of people watching, maybe even from myself.

All I could think about was the fall I had just seen from my housemate, imagining my brother receiving a similar injury. I placed my hands over my eyes, not wanting to look, and ended up peeking through my slitted fingers. 

Then he stretched out his hand -- a foot from the ground he caught it, just in time to pull his broom straight, where he toppled gently onto the grass with the Remembrall clutched safely in his fist.

"HARRY POTTER!"


	23. * Friends? *

XXIV.

When Professor McGonagall ‘s voice rang out, my heart sank faster than my brother had just dived. Professor McGonagall was running toward us. Harry got to his feet, trembling.

‘ _Harry’s going to be kick out! It’s not fair. Draco provoked him…’_

But another voice seemed to slither in my head. ‘ _He broke the rules though. Maybe he deserves to be expelled…’_ I couldn’t stop the leap in my heart. 

“NO!”

Everyone stared at me. I flushed red, realizing I said that out loud. I had also managed to interrupt whatever the Gryffindor Head of House was saying. She gave me a stern look. “You don’t think that your brother could have broken his neck, or worse, with the stunt he just pulled, Ms. Potter?”

I tried to stammer an excuse for my outburst. “Well, um, you see Professor – I, er, actually thought Harry was pretty good. I think he might be a – a natural flyer?”

“Yes, he might be. Regardless of the fact, he still needs to come with me. Now, Mr. Potter,” she added when Harry didn’t budge.

"It wasn't his fault, Professor --" one of the other girls sorted into my house called out.

“It was Malfoy who – “

"That's enough, Mr. Weasley and Ms. Patil. Potter, follow me, now." She gave him one last stern look before turning on her heel and walking away. I gave Harry a quick hug. “I’m sorry. I wish I could do more,” I whispered in his ear, all the while the voice from earlier hissed a quick, “ _No you don’t”_

Harry leaned back, his eyes darting to Draco behind me. I saw him, Crabbe, and Goyle's triumphant faces as he left, walking numbly in Professor McGonagall's wake as she strode toward the castle.

Moving on instinct, I stomp over to Draco. His face lit up , then blurred in a confused manner, “Aileen, what are you –”

He didn’t get to finish his question. Without any warning, my hand flashed across his face leaving a red mark. He gasped and held his cheek.

“Don’t -- ” I started. “Ever. Do that. Again.” Then I stomped off again, leaving my first flying lessons behind as I headed back to the castle. 

\------------------------------------

At dinner, everyone was congratulating Harry at becoming the youngest Seeker for Gryffindor. The Weasley twins were also on the team.

Draco came by to mock Harry, thinking that Harry had been expelled. When he found out that it wasn’t the case, I swear his face became green with envy. I’m sure he felt my gaze, but he pointedly the other way and headed back to his table.

“He’s still hurt about what happened in class earlier, and that you didn’t show at the meeting,” Peyton said. I slumped in my chair. In my anger and haste to get away, I completely forgot about the note from this morning.

“Don’t worry about. Draco can’t keep a grudge for the life of him,” Peyton tried to reassure me as she buttered her baked potato.

For the next few weeks, I tried to keep that in mind whenever I was in potions with the pale Slytherin. The table that me and Peyton shared with him was shrouded in constant tension, but it seemed that it didn’t affect anyone else. Snape continued to insult my House mates, targeting my brother especially. Hermione was trying to be a teacher’s pet, but Snape was having none of it. We couldn’t get through a lesson without someone ( *Seamus*) exploding a cauldron. I continued to make the potions assigned to near perfection, and Snape often gave me and Peyton points for our work. The rest of my classes were becoming increasingly difficult as well.

It was the first week of October, three weeks after Harry made the team, when there was a commotion at breakfast.

As the owls flooded into the Great Hall as usual, everyone's attention was caught at once by a long, thin package carried by six large screech owls. I was just as interested as everyone else to see what was in this large parcel and was amazed when the owls soared down and dropped it right in front of Harry, knocking his bacon to the floor. They had hardly fluttered out of the way when another owl dropped a letter on top of the parcel.

I saw him eye the package. “Harry, open the letter first,” I said. He ripped open the letter. It was a good thing I told him that because, reading over his shoulder, it said:

_DO NOT OPEN THE PARCEL AT THE TABLE._

_It contains your new Nimbus Two Thousand, but I don't want everybody knowing you've got a broomstick or they'll all want one. Oliver Wood will meet you tonight on the Quidditch field at seven o'clock for your first training session._

_Professor McGonagall_

Harry had difficulty hiding his glee as he handed the note to Ron to read.

"A Nimbus Two Thousand!" Ron moaned enviously. "I've never even touched one."

They left the hall quickly, dragging me behind them, since they wanted to unwrap the broomstick in private before our first class. Before I left, I gave Peyton a quick hg, telling her I’d see her in History. Halfway across the entrance hall we found the way upstairs barred by Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy seized the package from Harry and felt it.

"That's a broomstick," he said, throwing it back to Harry with a mixture of jealousy and spite on his face. "You'll be in for it this time, Potter, first years aren't allowed them."

Ron couldn't resist it. "It's not any old broomstick," he said, "it's a Nimbus Two Thousand. What did you say you've got at home, Malfoy, a Comet Two Sixty?" Ron grinned at Harry. "Comets look flashy, but they're not in the same league as the Nimbus."

"What would you know about it, Weasley, you couldn't afford half the handle," Malfoy snapped back. "I suppose you and your brothers have to save up twig by twig."

“Draco, did you really have to say that?”

Before Draco could answer, Professor Flitwick appeared at his elbow.

"Not arguing, I hope, boys?" he squeaked.

"Potter's been sent a broomstick, Professor," said Draco quickly.

"Yes, yes, that's right," said Professor Flitwick, beaming at Harry. "Professor McGonagall told me all about the special circumstances, Potter. And what model is it?"

"A Nimbus Two Thousand, sit," said Harry, and I saw him fighting to not laugh at the look of horror on Draco’s face. "And it's really thanks to Malfoy here that I've got it," he added.

Harry and Ron headed upstairs, smothering their laughter at the Slytherin’s obvious rage and confusion. "Well, it's true," Harry chortled as we reached the top of the marble staircase, "If he hadn't stolen Neville's Remembrall I wouldn't be on the team...."

"So I suppose you think that's a reward for breaking rules?" came an angry voice from just behind us. Hermione was stomping up the stairs, looking disapprovingly at the package in Harry's hand.

"I thought you weren't speaking to us?" said Harry.

"Yes, don't stop now," said Ron, "it's doing us so much good." Hermione marched away with her nose in the air. I gave an exasperated sigh at my brother and his friend, muttering a pointed, “Idiots!” before following Hermione down to class.

After shoving a few spoonfuls of macaroni, half a piece of chicken, and a mouthful of veggies, Harry sprinted to the Tower, then back to meet me in the Great Hall. There we traveled across the grounds to the Quidditch field.

It was at least 100 yards long, with massive bubble wands sticking out from the ground, easily 50 feet tall, and the hole no bigger than a backboard.

“Damn, what kind of game is Quidditch?” I whispered to my twin. “Those look wicked!”

There was a chuckle from behind us. I jumped and spun around so fast, I ended up tripping to the ground. Before I could fall completely, unfamiliar strong, ad slightly rough hands, grabbed my arms, pulling me back to my feet. “Th-thanks,” I stuttered.

The boy in front of me was the fifth-year boy Harry told me about, Oliver Wood. He smoothed out the wrinkles on the sleeves of my robes, then released me. “You must be Potter’s twin. Nice to meet you. I’m Oliver, the Captain for the Gryffindor team.”

“Um, Aileen. Pleased to meet you,” I replied, shaking his outstretched hand.

“Well, let’s get started. To answer, Quidditch is easy enough to understand, even if it's not too easy to play. There are seven players on each side. Three of them are called Chasers. They play with a Quaffle -- "

He explained everything the best he could for Harry. I was eventually lost and wondered off, observing the field and stands. Ringed all around the field was towers slightly taller than the hoops. A fourth of the towers each had two colors adorning it; Red and Gold for Gryffindor students to sit in, Black and Yellow for the Hufflepuffs, Blue and Bronze for the Ravenclaws, and (of course) Green and Silver for Slytherin.

Sandwiched between the Ravenclaw and Slytherin’s towers was a plain brown tower. At the top, there seemed to be a platform. Probably for commentary, I thought.

On my third circuit around, my eyes caught a movement, lit up in the liquid light from the full moon above. Warily, I crossed the pitch to the neutral tower and peeked around, my wand raised just in case. I didn’t know much magic, but hopefully I could bluff my way out if need-be.

It was Draco. When he saw me, raised his hands up, almost like in surrender. He was wandless, but what really took me by surprise was his outfit. Instead of his school uniform, or the crisp suits Peyton says he wears, Draco was wearing plain black sweatpants and a green tee. His feet wore regular white sneakers.

I couldn’t help but blurt out, “Wow, Dray, you look cute,” using Peyton’s nickname for him whenever we were alone and she told me stories from home. It was hard to tell with the pale moonlight hitting his slightly paler skin, but I swear his cheeks turned pink. Once the full impact of what I said seeped in, I wanted to die.

“I mean – erm, j-just that… you look good like that… “ I fumbled over my words, leaving an awkward silence between us. I was sure my face was as red as my hair. I pulled on my hair, smoothing it over and over as the pause stretched. Draco scuffed the toe of his sneaker against a stone nearby. Finally I couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Look, Draco, I’m sorry ok? I -- umm, ” I paused to gather my words. “I didn’t think about my words just now, and I didn’t mean to blow off our meeting. I wanted to talk to you about it, but you still seemed mad at me for the slap. I am so sorry for that to. I don’t know what happened to me back there. Afterwards, when Peyton told me – “

“What did she say?” he interrupted, almost looking frantic. The first words he’d said so far, and he looked like he was going to have a panic attack.

I faltered. “She – um – she only said that you were hurt when I slapped you, that you had Peyton add Murlap Essence to your cheek. After she told me that, I felt so guilty. I wanted to talk to you about it, but you seemed so distant, Draco! It was about a week after the slap that she told me. The next day in Potions, I wanted to talk after class, but you left before I had the chance. Draco, I felt so bad, I cried myself to sleep for three nights.”

His face had relaxed when I answered his question, but as I continued to speak, his face grew more and more distant. He lowered his head when I finished, staring at his feet. After hours of bated breath, hoping for something … anything, I stomped my foot like someone half my age. “Damn you Draco Malfoy. Say something!” 

His head snapped up, tears running. Peyton told me that Draco doesn’t cry… ever. My anger sapped out of me in an instant. I reached my hand out slightly, and he seized it, pulling me until I was close enough for him to wrap his arms around me. I was so shocked at his actions; it took me a minute to relax and return his hug. I felt his mute tears stain the fabric of my shirt.

“I’m sorry I was pushing you away,” he finally said, his voice hushed. “I told Peyton – never mind.” He slowly extracted himself, taking my hand in his. “I actually came out here to apologize to you, Aileen. I acted like an arse that day. Peyton told me about your cousin, and looking back, I can see why you reacted the way you did. Peyton most likely mentioned that I can’t hold a grudge, and it’s true. I was upset at myself for doing that to you, but never at you, Aileen. I -- ” he suddenly stopped.

I looked into his eyes, the ice-blue turning silver in the moonlight. Conflict was raging in his head, clouding his gaze slightly. I guess one of the sides won when it cleared, but which, I’ll never know. Draco sagged slightly next to me. He changed whatever it was he started to say. “Can we be friends? I really enjoy your… company, with or without Peyton. Pease say yes,” he practically pleaded with me.

I wanted to say ‘yes’ with all my being, but I hesitated. I paused long enough in answering that Draco started to squirm next to me. I let out a quite laugh. “Yes, Draco, yes, we can be friends. But I don’t like the hostility between you and Harry. He _is_ my brother you know, my twin in fact. I -- ”

Draco held up his slender hand. “I can’t do it. I can’t be nice to Potter… er, Harry. That is asking too much,” he spat in true Malfoy fashion.

“I know that. I was going to say that I don’t want him to know. He really doesn’t like you,” I said, and Draco’s face matched the disgust I see on Harry’s face whenever me or Peyton bring up Draco. I had to laugh at how similar the two were. It was amazing that they didn’t get along better.

Shaking my head, I went back to what I was saying. “We can be friends, but Harry has to think that we hate each other. Everyone does. The only one who can know is Peyton. I can’t hide this from her.”

Draco sucked in a breath. “How will we be friends if I act like I hate you?” He actually sounded worried.   
Smiling slightly at his concern, I squeezed his hand. “When we are alone. And during the summer, I can ask my aunt and uncle to go to Peyton’s house, then you can come over, or we’ll go to you. During school, let’s say… “ I ran my fingers through my curls as I thought. “How about… oh! When do you have Astronomy?” I asked, hoping my idea worked.

He frowned. “Monday nights. Why?”

“Mine are Wednesday’s. Hmmm… well my idea won’t work. What if we sneak away and hung out during the weekends? Like Friday and Saturday? Leave Sunday to do any homework?”

Draco smirked, his signature move. “That sounds good. I like how your brains works, Aileen.”

I was too excited to be embarrassed by his compliment, or by the smirk that I love. “Ok, if there is more that I come up with, I’ll let Peyton tell you, or send an owl. Nikias needs more to do. I’m afraid he’ll grow fat and lazy stuck in the owlery.”

“AILEEN!” someone called out suddenly. Draco immediately dropped my hand and took a step back. “I’ll see you later. Goodnight,” he said as he backed away. I turned away and headed to the middle of the pitch. “ ‘Sup. Y’all done yet?”

Harry looked at me, full on suspicious brother mood. “What were you doing behind the stands? Why were you there?”

I shrugged, looking past him to Oliver. He merely grinned, giving me a shrug of his own. Harry looked between us, glowering, but he too raised his shoulders. “Fine, whatever. Anyways, practice is done. You wanna come to the next one tomorrow?”

Tomorrow is Saturday, and I remembered the deal I just made with Draco. “Sorry, I already made plans with Peyton,” I lied. He cocked his head slightly, seeing I wasn’t being 100% truthful, but didn’t push it. He gave me his ’I know your lying, but I’m letting it pass’ look. Shouldering his broom, he started to walk back.

“Come on you two,” he called over his shoulder. “It’s almost curfew.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A / N ~ Sorry if Draco was OOC. My little sister has an idea about Lucius Malfoy that I am kind of using here. She likes to say, “A villain is just a victim whose story hasn’t been told yet.” Anyways, that is some of the thinking here behind Draco, but if y’all think it’s too OOC, let me know. I might change it later…
> 
> I am getting a little short on pre-written chaps, so my update times are going to be longer in between. I hope y'all continue to stick with me though. Don't forget to leave kudos / a comment my lovely readers!


	24. * T - Tr - Troll! *

XXV. 

Turns out I didn’t have to say anything to Peyton. She brought it up during breakfast the very next day.

“Aileen, this is ridiculous. It’s about time that you and Dray talk this out. I’m tired of feeling like I am walking on eggshells around you two! I will drag you over to the Slytherin’s common room this instant right now if I need to. By Merlin's beard, if I have to lock you and Draco in a broom closet -- alone! -- I will. I swear, you two are going to be the death of me!”

While she talked, I couldn’t help the grin spreading across my face. Once she was done ranting and saw my full-blown smile, she crossed her arms. “You already talked to him, didn’t you?”

I nodded, pausing as a group of Puffs passed then launched into what happened the night before. As I was telling her my idea of spending the summers together, I saw Hermione enter the Hall. “We’ll talk later,” I whispered to Peyton. Somehow, I didn’t think that Hermione would like the idea of me being friends with Draco.

“Are you two ready for class?” Hermione chirped.

“Why are you so happy today 'Mione? _Very_ suspicious if you ask me,” I laughed. She shook her head at my antics while Peyton tried to guess why. (“Is it a boy? Who? Come on, tell us!" ~ "No, Peyton..." ) “Yeah let’s go. I don’t want to be late for class.”

Before long it was the end of October. I hardly felt like I had already been at Hogwarts for two months. The castle felt more like home than Privet Drive ever had. My lessons, too, were becoming more and more interesting now that we had mastered the basics.

I was looking forward to my first magical Halloween. Draco and Peyton told me stories of when they were younger, going around trick or treating, the pranks they pulled on their parents or neighbors when they didn’t receive candy… It all sounded incredible. My stories, by comparison, were bland and boring, and Peyton and Draco did what they could to avoid asking me for my past Halloween experiences.

On Halloween morning I woke to the delicious smell of baking pumpkin wafting through the corridors. In Charms class, Prof. Flitwick announced that we were ready to start making objects fly, something I had all been dying to try since we had seen him make Neville's toad zoom around the classroom. Professor Flitwick put the class into pairs to practice. My partner was Peyton, like always. However, Hermione was working with Ron. It was hard to tell whether Ron or Hermione was angrier about this. She hadn't spoken to the boys since the day Harry's broomstick had arrived.

"Now, don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practicing!" squeaked Professor Flitwick, perched on top of his pile of books as usual. "Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick. And saying the magic words properly is very important, too -- never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said 's' instead of 'f' and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest."

Peyton and I had fun attempting to make our feathers fly. We would take turns doing it the correct way, then doing drastic wand movements and generally having fun. The class was silent after a _bang!_ went off. Seamus, who was partnered with Harry, had managed to blast their feather to dust. I couldn’t help the chortle that came out, starting the rest of the class off. The stunned look on Harry’s face was priceless.

A few tables down, Ron wasn't having much more luck than my brother. "Wingardium Leviosa!" he shouted, waving his long arms like a windmill.

"You're saying it wrong," I heard Hermione snap. "It's Wing-gar-dium Levi-o-sa, make the 'gar' nice and long."

"You do it, then, if you're so clever," Ron snarled.

Hermione rolled up the sleeves of her gown, flicked her wand, and said, "Wingardium Leviosa!"

Their feather rose off the desk and hovered about four feet above their heads. I clapped my hands, drawing the teacher’s attention.

"Oh, well done!" cried Professor Flitwick, also clapping. "Everyone see here, Miss Granger's done it!"

Ron was in a very bad mood by the end of the class. Peyton had already left to tell Draco when we could meet up again, but I had stuck around for Hermione. As they past, I heard Ron tell Harry and Seamus, "It's no wonder no one can stand her, she's a nightmare, honestly. "

Someone knocked into me as they hurried past. It was Hermione. I caught a glimpse of her face -- and was startled to see that she was in tears.

"I think she heard you." I couldn’t keep the venom out of my voice.

"So?" said Ron, but he looked a bit uncomfortable. "She must've noticed she's got no friends."

I was shocked speechless. After a few seconds, I regained my vocal cords enough to snap at the ginger in front of my. “In case you haven’t noticed, _I_ am one of her friends. Your just jealous that she is better than you in class, despite the fact that she only found out a few months ago that she was magical, whereas you’ve known you were most of your life!”

I stormed off, too angry to continue my rant. I thought I heard someone mutter, “She’s mental,” but decided to ignore it. I headed the direction I had seen Hermione rush down, twisting through the crowds as I scanned for her bushy brown hair.

Up ahead, I noticed there was a bathroom. Thinking that Hermione might have dashed inside, I paused outside the only occupied stall. Knocking softly, I called out, “Hermione? Are you in here?”

Sniffles greeted me. Pushing on the unlocked door, I saw Hermione sitting on the toilet, head down, her arms wrapped around her drawn knees.

“Oh, Hermione!” I rushed in and drew her into a hug. “Shh. You do have friends. Me, and Peyton for starters. Besides, it’s not like Ron has more than you. As far as I know, he only hangs out with Harry,” I tried to soothe. Hermione’s tears slowly stopped.

She looked at me with wide eyes, her brown irises bloodshot. “Th-thank you, Aileen. I d-don’t know what I’d do w-without you.” She gave a weak laugh. “I guess I should leave. D-don’t want to miss our next class.”

I admired her determination, but I could tell her heart wasn’t in it. “Hermione, why don’t you stay here for as long as you need. I can bring you lunch, and possibly dinner if you stay that long. You take the time you need to pull yourself together, ok?”

The surprise in her eyes didn’t fade after my declaration. “Sometimes, it’s hard to believe your only eleven, Aileen. You seem so much older at times… Thank you. For everything.”

Hermione spent the rest of the day hiding, and I stayed by her side whenever we weren’t in class. Peyton had been with Draco most of the morning and caught me after lunch. Together, we stayed with Hermione until it was time for the feast. She waved us off, smiling when we were reluctant to leave. Finally, her insisting (and my curiosity,) got the better of me, and me and Peyton headed off to the Great Hall.

A thousand live bats fluttered from the walls and ceiling while a thousand more swooped over the tables in low black clouds, making the candles in the pumpkins flicker. The feast appeared suddenly on the golden plates, as it had at the start-of-term banquet.

I was just helping myself to a steak burger and some chips ( ** **British for fries, fyi. Not American chips...)**** when Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the hall, his turban askew and terror on his face. Everyone stared as he reached Professor Dumbledore's chair, slumped against the table, and gasped, "T – tr - troll -- in the dungeons!"

He then sank to the floor in a dead faint.

Panic erupted. Everywhere there was an uproar. It took several purple firecrackers exploding from the end of Professor Dumbledore's wand to bring silence.

"Prefects," he rumbled, "lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!"

Percy was in his element.

"Follow me! Stick together, first years! No need to fear the troll if you follow my orders! Stay close behind me, now. Make way, first years coming through! Excuse me, I'm a prefect!"

"How could a troll get in?" Harry asked as we all climbed the stairs.

"Don't ask me, they're supposed to be really stupid," said Ron. "Maybe Peeves let it in for a Halloween joke."

I made a face. "Mm, I don't see Peeves doing something like that. He _is_ just a ghost, right? A very angry one, but still just a ghost..."

The boys, Peyton, and I passed different groups of people hurrying in different directions. As we jostled our way through a crowd of confused Hufflepuffs, Harry suddenly grabbed my arm, forcing me to come to an abrupt stop. "I've just thought -- Hermione."

"What about her?" Ron asked, slightly annoyed.

"She doesn't know about the troll," Peyton caught onto Harry’s thoughts.

“Oh no! I have to get her!” I started off towards the bathroom she had been in all day.

Peyton grabbed my arm. “Hold on! You should wait for the boys –” she glared at my brother and Ron, “—before running off. I’ll get some of the teachers and meet you there. Try to get in and get out with Hermione. Trolls are stupid, but powerful. Be careful.” She pulled me into a tight hug before turning on her heel, headed back to the Great Hall.

“Well, you heard the girl. Let’s go!” Grabbing a hold of Harry’s hand, I raced to the girls’ bathroom.


	25. * Three Weeks Later *

XXVI. 

The closer I dragged my twin and his red-haired friend closer to Hermione’s hideout spot, I noticed a disgusting odor in the corridor. “Does anyone else smell that?”

“Yeah. It of reminds me of a pair of Uncle Vernon’s old socks and a public toilet no one seems to clean,” Harry gagged out, raising his robes to cover his nose.

Then I heard it -- a low grunting, and the shuffling footfalls of gigantic feet. Ron pointed to the end of a passage to our left, a rather high-pitched peep escaping his pale lips. Something huge was moving towards us. We shrank into the shadows and watched as it emerged into a patch of moonlight.

I almost blew our position. Luckily, Harry clamped his hand over my mouth before I had the chance. The was a horrible sight. Twelve feet tall, its skin was a dull, granite gray, its great lumpy body like a boulder with its small bald head perched on top like a coconut. It had short legs thick as tree trunks with flat, horny feet. The smell coming from it was incredible. It was holding a huge wooden club, which dragged along the floor because its arms were so long.

“I thought Professor Quirrell said it was in the dungeons,” I whispered to the boys.

The troll lumbered down the corridor, with me, Harry, and Ron following behind as discreetly as we could. When the troll stopped next to a doorway and peered inside, I felt like I recognized the chamber, but couldn’t remember where once I saw the troll waggling its long ears. It making up its tiny mind, slouching slowly into the room.

"The keys in the lock," Harry muttered. "We could lock it in."

"Good idea," said Ron nervously.

They edged toward the open door, as I prayed the troll wasn't about to come out. With one great leap, Harry managed to grab the key, slam the door, and lock it.

“Yes!"

Flushed with our victory, we started to run back up the passage, but as we reached the corner, I suddenly remembered why I knew the chamber. “Guys! That was the –”

A high, petrified scream came from the chamber the boys just chained up.

"Oh, no," said Ron, pale as the Bloody Baron.

“— girls’ bathroom,” I finished.

"Hermione!" Harry gasped.

It was the last thing I wanted to do, but what choice did we have? Wheeling around, we sprinted back to the door and I tried to turn the key, fumbling in my panic. Harry pulled the door open and we ran inside.

Hermione was shrinking against the wall opposite, looking as if she was about to faint. The troll was advancing on her, knocking the sinks off the walls as it went.

"Confuse it!" I said desperately to Ron. He threw a broken sink tap as hard as he could against the wall.

The troll stopped a few feet from Hermione. It lumbered around, blinking stupidly, to see what had made the noise. Its mean little eyes saw Harry. It hesitated, then made for him instead, lifting its club as it went.

"Oy, pea-brain!" yelled Ron from the other side of the chamber, and he threw a metal pipe at it. The troll didn't even seem to notice the pipe hitting its shoulder, but it heard the yell and paused again, turning its ugly snout toward Ron instead, giving Harry time to run around it.

Crouching down under the sinks, I tried to pull Hermione out. "Come on, run, run!" I yelled at her, still trying to pull her toward the door, but she wouldn’t move. Her back was flat against the wall, her mouth open with terror.

The shouting and the echoes seemed to be driving the troll berserk. It roared again and started toward Ron, who was nearest and had no way to escape.

Harry then did something that was both very brave and very stupid: He took a great running jump and managed to fasten his arms around the troll's neck from behind. The troll didn’t seem to feel Harry hanging there, but even a troll will notice if you stick a long bit of wood up its nose, and Harry's wand had still been in his hand when he'd jumped -- it had gone straight up one of the troll's nostrils.

Howling with pain, the troll twisted and flailed its club, with my brother clinging on for dear life; any second, the troll was going to rip him off or catch him a terrible blow with the club.

Hermione had sunk to the floor in fright, huddling in my arms; Ron

The club flew suddenly out of the troll's hand, rose high, high up into the air, turned slowly over -- and dropped, with a sickening crack, onto its owner's head. The troll swayed on the spot and then fell flat on its face, with a thud that made the whole room tremble.

I stood up. “Come on, Hermione. I think it’s dead now.” No matter how hard I tugged at her arm, she refused to budge. Sighing, I walked over to the troll and kicked it’s head. “See! Nothing to worry abo—“

Before I could react in any way, the ‘dead’ troll rolled on his side, flinging his arms up as he moved. The clenched fist swung right at me, before colliding with the ide of my head. The last thing I remember was Hermione’s shocked and concerned face and Harry shouting my name.

Then everything went black.

A haze of voices surrounded me. Bright lights flashed in my eyes, but I couldn’t raise my arms to shield them. My whole body felt like lead, as if I were sinking in a pond, or the Black Lake. Sinking… sinking… pulled further down into the dark void of oblivion.

Time was immeasurable. At times, it felt like I slept, if that’s what you’d call it, for seconds between my bouts of consciousness. Other times, it felt as though it had been weeks or months since the last time someone shoved a new potion down my throat.

In the brief periods of time that I was awake, and the few that I was able to see in, the images I saw made no sense. One time, everyone surrounded me, wearing grim faces. I tried to ask what everyone was sad about, why they were looking at me like I was a corpse in a casket, but my mouth refused to move. Not long after I slipped back under the cloud around me.

The others were just as confusing. Harry by my side, standing over me and holding my hand. His pale lips were moving but I only heard the ringing in my ears, and his eyes were swimming in unshed tears…

A single beam of moonlight streamed through a close by window, illuminating Professor Snape standing in the corner, silently watching me. The shadows around him clung to his pitch-black robes…

Peyton asleep in a nearby chair while Draco paced, the lamplight casting dark half-circles under his eyes…

The next time I opened my eyes, I was able to keep them opened. I tried to sit up but found that my body was too weak. My arms were trembled so hard when I tried to prop myself up. Sighing in defeat, I fell onto my pillow. Instead, I decided to have a look around.

I knew I had to be in the , remembering when me and Hermione brought Peyton in. It looked exactly the same as my last visit:

Around six cots were spaced out in the room, a separation sheet next to each, along with a small bedside table. Next to my bed was a cart piled high with Get-Well cards and a bunch of sweets from well-wishers. The wide floor-to-ceiling windows let in the early morning light.

Barely five minutes since I had ‘woken up’, Madam Pomphrey entered. When she saw me, I swear I heard a small gasp. She briefly composed herself before bustling to my side. “My, my, child. You certainly gave everyone here quite a scare. Your brother and friends have hardly left your side or the last month or so. Yes gave everyone quite the scare…” she muttered as she took my vitals. It took a moment for her words t sink into my still foggy brain.

“A-a m-m-month? I’ve been asleep for a month!” I started to hyperventilate, imagining the homework that I had missed, what I put Harry, Hermione, and Peyton through. _Harry m-must have thought that I was going to die! I am the worst sister there is!_

I hadn’t realized that I was crying until Madam Pomphrey’s gentle hands wiped at my tears. “Shh child. Your awake now and seem to be almost back to normal. A proper meal, maybe a shower and a good night’s sleep should set you straight. I’m sorry, I rounded the time here up. You’ve only been here about three weeks. December hasn’t arrived yet, child… Now I have to go and inform the Headmaster about your condition. I shall be right back. Don’t get out of your bed.”

She left. Still lying back, I traced the lines on the ceiling with my eyes. I had made out a dragon, mermaid, and an owl before I heard a pair of footsteps. Thinking it was the matron again, I didn’t bother to acknowledge the newcomer. However, the person who spoke was not Madam Pomphrey.

My new visitor gasped. “Your awake!”


	26. * Three Weeks Later (Part 2) *

XXVII. 

They gasped. “Your awake!”

I turned my head so quickly it popped. “OW!” I cried out, trying to reach a hand up to hold my neck.

Hermione rushed over. “I am so sorry, Aileen. I didn’t mean to startle you. That sounded like it hurt,” she said, giving my neck a pointed look.

“Yeah, yeah it did,” I gave a light chuckle. “Hermione…” I whispered suddenly, causing my friend to lean forward to hear me. “… has it really been three months since Halloween? What happened to me?”

Hermione shifted her feet, looking nervous. “Well… umm…” I stared. Never before had I seen Hermione Granger at a loss of words. She noticed my look and stiffened. “The troll knocked you out. His arm flung up after you kicked him, and it caught you in the head. Harry when ballistic, thinking you had died. By the time that Peyton came with the Professors, me, Harry and even Ron had tried everything we could to wake you. Professor Snape carried you up here, and you’ve been asleep ever since.”

She continued to recount what all had happened while I was out of commission. How she had been accepted by Harry and Ron after taking the blame for the troll incident, finding a three-headed dog that Hagrid named Fluffy on the third corridor, and Harry’s suspicions of the Potions Master trying to steal whatever had been in Gringotts. Apparently, it had some kind of connection to Nicholas Flamel.

“Snape is on all of our radar right now, I think,” she finished.

“Wait, why? What did he do?”

“Oh,” she thought for a minute, almost like she was debating whether or not to tell me.

“Come on, 'Mione! Why do you suspect Snape?” I pushed.

“He… well he might have tried to curse Harry off his broom in his first Quidditch match. Don’t worry though,” she said hastily, seeing my face. “I set his robes on fire to distract him. I just feel bad that I bumped into Professor Quirrell when I tried to get away.” 

When she said the name of our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, I felt another twinge along my neck. Before I could tell Hermione, Madam Pomphrey entered the Wing again, the Headmaster right on her heels.

“Excellent, Ms. Potter. Madam Pomphrey has just informed me that one more night under her care, and you’ll be free to go,” he clapped. “Ms. Granger, why don’t you inform the rest of your friends, especially Mr. Potter. I’m sure he’ll be glad to hear his sister is now awake.”

Hermione gave me a quick hug before she left, glancing back one last time before rounding the corner. Madam Pomphrey gave Dumbledore a stern look, causing the older man to chuckle and nod as a response. Of course my confused self was given absolutely zero explanation.

Professor Dumbledore gave a quick wave of his wand, and a slight buzzing noise filled the silent Wing. Once again he clapped, and this time, a platter of chocolate landed gently on my lap. “Go ahead and eat some chocolate, Ms. Potter. It will help you feel better,” he paused until I took a bite from one of the squares, feeling a warmth flood through my body. “Good, good.”

I stared at the old man but continued to eat the chocolate. It did make me feel a little better. He hummed a tune under his breath and looked around at my cart of knick-knacks. Finally, I couldn’t stand the silence (aside from the continuous buzzing and Dumbledore’s humming) anymore.

“Professor, please don’t take offence, but why are you here, visiting me? The only times I have seen you are at meal times. I wasn’t aware that you personally came to check on hurt students. Wouldn’t you have more important work to do?”

The old man just smile. “Yes, normally I would. But you, my dear, are special.”

I waited for him to continue, but he seemed content to leave me hanging. Clearing my throat, I tried to pry for more information. “Special, Professor? How am I special? Everyone thinks Harry is the special one. I’m no one compared to him,” I finished rather quietly.

He gave a hearty chuckle. “No, my dear. You both are special. You…,” he paused, a slight glint in his eyes, “You are more important than anyone can realize at the moment. Always remember that,” he declared.

I nodded, not quite understanding exactly what he was saying. Before I could resume my questioning, the buzzing noise that had been maintained throughout mine and the Professor’s talk evaporated, not a second before my brother burst into the room.   


“AILEEN!”

He launched himself onto my bed, giving me a tight hug. I felt a warm wetness land on my exposed neck. “Harry,” I say gently. “Don’t cry! Madam Pomphrey and Professor Dumbledore both assured me that I will be fine. It’s okay,” I reassure him, returning his hug with just as much intensity.

Alerted by his shout, the matron came back into the Hospital Wing. When she saw Harry practically ingulfing me with his body, she hurried over. “Young man, I don’t care if she is your sister or not. She is my patient while she is here, and I need you to remove yourself off of her bed right now. How do you expect her to recover if you undo all of my work, squishing her to death?” she asked the last question kindly, obviously remembering when he came to sit beside me.

Harry reluctantly got off me, choosing to sit next to Dumbledore and holding my hand. I squeezed his reassuringly, and he gave me a weak smile in return.

Soon, the ward was filled with Gryffindors, including Oliver, the three Weasleys, Neville, Hermione, and Peyton. Madam Pomphrey threw her hands into the air. “Out. OUT! No more than six visitors at a time! Come on, back up, back up!”

Since nobody wanted to leave, Dumbledore stood. “Well, my dear Ms. Potter, seems like you have become quite popular already. I will leave you to catch up with your friends.”

Harry doesn’t let go of my hand, making it clear that he wasn’t going to leave anytime soon. Peyton left the room right behind the Headmaster, throwing me a quick ‘Draco’ while everyone else was turned away from her; I give a discreet nod in return. Hermione also left, having spoken with me earlier. Since enough people had left to satisfy the matron, she returned to her rooms adjacent to the ward. 

Once Madam Pomphrey was out of earshot, I was promptly bombarded with questions from my visitors. They warned to know what caused the troll to hit me (the twins), what I remember from that night and since (Ron), how I was feeling (Harry and Oliver), and when I would return to class (Neville).

With a slightly exasperated huff, I once again tried to prop myself up, stalling before I had to answer their questions. Harry and Neville helped stack my pillows behind me to support me as I lad back down. Closing my eyes, I tried to think of the clearest way I could satisfy my friends. “Well, I remember the fight with the troll, trying to help Hermione out of the bathroom, and Ron,” I looked at him, “knocking out the troll with his club. To prove to Hermione that it was safe for her to come out, I went up to the troll and kicked it in its head.”

I had to pause for the Weasley twins, who were laughing their arses off. Fred (or was it George?) even had the audacity to pretend to swipe away tears from his eyes as the other said, “Wicked!”

Neville’s face seemed to grow rather pale, and I could see him put two and two together. Ron gave a small chuckle, not having seen the first time around, and Harry’s lips thinned. Oliver looked torn between asking me if I was alright again and laughing with the twins.   
Shaking my head, I continued. “Well, the troll didn’t seem to like my foot much, even if he was unconscious. I guess he rolled over and hit me in my bloody head! You know more about what happened next than I do, I bet. All I remember afterwards are flashes of visitors,” I finished, giving Harry a reassuring hand squeeze.

I saw a brief glance of white at the entrance of the Wing. Before I could turn my head to see more, it was gone. Barely a second later, Peyton stuck her head in and my heart gave a small leap. _Draco was here_.

“Umm, guys? I’m feeling a bit tired and haven’t had the chance to talk to Peyton yet. Do you mind…?” I wasn’t sure how to finish my question.   
But Harry understood. “Of course, sis. I’ll see you later.” He gave me a brief hug, before pulling away and heading towards the door. I felt a moment of panic ( _What if he saw Dray?)_ but I guess Draco was hiding from everyone. The rest of the boys gave me a hug as well, each stating that they’d come and see me later as well. Oliver’s hug seemed to last longer than the others, but maybe I was just getting anxious for the boys to leave. I offered everyone a weak smile as they began to file out, Fred and George shoving each other and their brother out the door.

Once everyone had left ( _Was I just imagining that Olive was lingering a bit?)_ Peyton stepped inside the Wing. I was about to ask her where Draco was, but before my lips had even parted, Draco leapt out from under my bed.

“Bloody hell Draco! How long have you been there?” I told him as I pressed one of my hands over my chest, feeling my heart race from the scare he just gave me.

Draco gave me that smirk I’ve come to love, but it was quickly replaced with a frown. “Almost the entire time. I ran ahead of Peyton once she told me you were awake, arriving when you were telling those idiot Gryffindors how you got hurt. Luckily no one saw me as I crawled under each bed. ”

“Oh,” I whispered, suddenly feeling embarrassed. An uncomfortable silence descended upon us, until Peyton cleared her throat. “So,” she clapped her hands to draw our attention to her. “Let’s talk about something else! I know, let’s play Guess the Flavor,” she held up my bag of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans.

Soon enough, me, Draco, and Peyton were laughing and enjoying ourselves. After I got a particularly disgusting bean, that Draco later told me was Liver and Tripe flavored, I decided to quite the game while I still had my taste buds.

Before long, my eyelids began to droop. I didn’t want to go back to sleep, fearing how long I would be out this time. I fought off my drowsiness for as long as I could, but eventually I couldn’t help it. My eyes dropped down one last time, finally succumbing to my exhaustion. 

I was released the next day. The Headmaster excused me from classes for the day, with Madam Pomphrey telling me to take the day and weekend easy, and to come to her if I started to feel ill. While my brother and friends were in class, I stayed in the Common Room to catch up on my homework. The twins came over at one point, and they tried to confuse me even further by giving me the wrong answers. They almost had me too, if Hermione hadn’t walked through the portrait and come to my rescue. She even scolded the boys for their antic, causing all three of us to laugh.

“Yes, Miss Granger,” they saluted her simultaneously, which drew me into another round of giggles.

“It’s fine, ‘Mione. I was almost done anyways. Let’s go down for lunch. I’m starving!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A / N ~
> 
> I am sooo sorry for taking so long to upload this chapter. I just realize that I have less than a month to finish my summer assignment (And I haven't even started.) Therefore, I will be taking a brief break from writing. I have already started the next chap a little, and will try to make it a little longer than usual for all of y'all. 
> 
> I'm sorry to do this to all of you, but hopefully my assignment won't take long.
> 
> Thank you for understanding!!


	27. * Taste Defeat Boys! *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N~  
> Soo sorry for the prolonged wait. I said Sunday (Wattpad) and I am so so so Sorry about that. My dad’s 43rd b’day, mom and dad’s 15th anniversary, new school schedules/ back to school shopping, and writers block got me distracted. 
> 
> And guess what?!? Shark Week is this week!!! OML I AM SOO EXCITED!!!!! Underwater Cinematographer Andy B. Casagrande (the Fourth) is my absolute hero, and I hope to grow and have his job one day! 
> 
> Anyways, enough babbling from me. Hope y’all enjoy the chapter! The next one might be uploaded this weekend. (Does Sat. sound good? Idk when cuz I start my Soph. year on Mon.)

XXVIII. 

Within a week, it was December, bringing with it frigid winds and frosty morning, alluding to the coming snow with each passing day. Finally, one morning in mid-December, I woke to find the forest tops covered in snow. The lake froze solid and the Weasley twins were punished for bewitching several snowballs so that they followed Quirrell around, bouncing off the back of his turban.

The few owls that managed to battle their way through the stormy sky to deliver mail had to be nursed back to health by Hagrid before they could fly off again.

No one could wait for the holidays to start. While the Gryffindor common room and the Great Hall had roaring fires, the drafty corridors had become icy and a bitter wind rattled the windows in the classrooms. Worst of all were Professor Snape's classes down in the dungeons. Our breath rose in a mist before us and I tried to keep as close as possible to my hot cauldrons.

"I do feel so sorry," said Draco, one Potions class, "for all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they're not wanted at home."

He was looking over at Harry as he spoke. Crabbe and Goyle chuckled. I tried not to get upset, this was how he was coping with his House loss against Harry. He made fun off Harry for not wanting to go back to the Dursley’s over the break. I didn’t blame my brother either. Professor McGonagall had come around the week before, making a list of students who would be staying for the holidays, and Harry had signed up at once. Peyton had offered for me to come home with her, and I had agreed.

When I told Harry I would be with Peyton, he smiled. “Go ahead and have fun. Don’t worry about me. Ron and his brothers are staying. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley are going to Romania to visit their older brother Charlie. This is gonna be the best Christmas I’ve had ever, Aileen.”

The week before everyone left for break, the whole castle seemed to glow with Christmas cheer.

The Great Hall looked spectacular. Festoons of holly and mistletoe hung all around the walls, and no less than twelve towering Christmas trees stood around the room, some sparkling with tiny icicles, some glittering with hundreds of candles.

Unfortunately, I didn’t get to enjoy my few days of Christmas holidays at Hogwarts. Ever since Hagrid slipped up by saying ‘Flamel’, Hermione has had us all combing the library to see if we could figure out who he was. 

The one time that we brought it up with the giant man, he seemed to panic, telling us, ‘’Drop it. It's nothin' to you what that dog's guardin'."

"We just want to know who Nicolas Flamel is, that's all," Hermione pressed.

"Unless you'd like to tell us and save us the trouble?" Harry added. "We must've been through hundreds of books already and we can't find him anywhere -- just give us a hint -- I know I've read his name somewhere."

But Hagrid refused.

In spite of spending endless hours and countless days pouring over books, we were no closer than before. He wasn't in _Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century_ , or _Notable Magical Names of Our Time_ ; he was missing, too, from _Important Modern Magical Discoveries_ , and _A Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry_. And then, of course, there was the sheer size of the library; tens of thousands of books; thousands of shelves; hundreds of narrow rows.

On the last day of term, Peyton had had enough. “This is pointless,” she threw her hands up in defeat. “We are never going to find him. Can we just go outside and enjoy the day like _normal_ kids? Let’s have a snowball fight!”

I nodded my head, equally as eager despite my own love of books. I looked towards my brother, but he and Ron weren’t even helping look through their pile of books. And judging by the puddle of drool under Ron’s hand, I’d say they hadn’t been helping for a while now.

“Watch this,” I whispered to the girls. Nudging Harry’s foot rather forcefully, I scooted back to avoid any backlash.

I wasn’t disappointed.

Harry jumped, yelling, “I caught the Snitch!” his knees banging against the table, causing Ron to wake up as well.

“Stop it Gred and Forge!” Ron exclaimed sleepily. “Not another one of your firew—”

Unable to contain our laughter a moment longer, me and Peyton burst. Even Hermione let out a soft chuckle before the librarian arrived, a surly woman, her back held impeccably straight, almost like a ruler had replaced her spine. Her raven black hair was slicked back into a perfect teacher’s knot, not unlike Prof. McGonagall ’s.

Once she came over, she shrieked at us to get out, even going so far as to hit our table, and hands if we didn’t move away in time, with an actual ruler.

“Well, I guess some time off wouldn’t hurt,” Hermione sighed in defeat. “Peyton, didn’t you say something about a snowball fight?”

The boys quickly agreed to the idea, so after a quick stop to bundle up, the five of us headed out of the castle. “Boys verses Girls?” I asked.

Ron grumbled, “No fair, there are more of you!”

“Not if I sit out,” Hermione said. “I’d rather not be soaked to the bone in this freezing weather.”

“Ok, me and Aileen, against Harry and Ron. Seems reasonable. Be prepared to taste defeat boys!” cried my best friend. 

As we ran outside, and together, Peyton and I raced to make as many snowballs as we could. After hearing Peyton complain about her freezing hands, Hermione whispered a spell to us, which allowed us to magically make perfect snowballs, not unlike the ones the Weasley twins had made. A quick glance at Harry showed that the boys were struggling just like we had before.

Taking off my scarf, I hastily stuffed as much packed ice as I could. Peyton stood up and launched the first ball, hitting Ron squarely between his shoulder blades.

“Oy! We’re not ready!” He called. While they were distracted by Peyton, who continued to pelt them, I snuck around in attempt to flank the boys. Halfway there, I ducked behind a tree when there was a lull in the fighting. I held my breath, lest the faint puff of air give away my position.

Peyton gave a sudden war cry, and continued her onslaught on my brother and Ron, her ammo piled as high as her knees. I ducked out of cover to continue on my path behind Harry, targeting the one of the nearby sheds.

With a quick slip behind the shed, I dropped the snow on the ground, shaking out my scarf. Whispering the spell, I soon had a dozen perfectly round projectiles. When I picked on up, it’s icy teeth bit into my exposed fingers. I slowly slipped out from my cover, targeting the back of Harry’s head. I drew my arm back, and --

“What are you doing?”

I jump, letting go of the snowball. It fell with a dull thud as it’s shape broke. Whipping around, I half-sighed, half-laughed in relief. _Not a teacher,_ I thought.

Nope, it was just Draco, leaning casually on the other side of the shed, his eyes gleaming, a soft smile, no smirk, upon his small, pointed face.

“Draco!” I whined. “You made me miss my shot!” Looking at my feet, I saw the broken sphere. I tried my best to glare at my Slytherin friend. “You broke my snowball,” I grumbled, trying to stop the growing smile I knew was on my face.

He walked over, eyeing my brother and his friend as they got pummeled by Peyton’s shots. They were desperately trying to get their own hits in, by they never seemed to quite reach her. “I’ll make the shot for you,” Draco says, a slight drawl to his words.

I thought for a minute, then had an idea. “What if we _both_ got them?”

Draco nodded, and I taught him the spell Hermione had showed me. Soon, Draco had his own pile on his side of the shed. After a silent count of three, we both threw our snowballs at the boys huddled against the snowbank they were using as shelter. I stepped fully out from behind the shed, but Draco made sure he was still hidden.

Before the boys could try to shield themselves, they were covered from head-to-toe in snow, me (and Draco) from the front and Peyton from behind. Soon, Harry and Ron held up their arms in surrender, calling out, “Yield! We yield!”

With a silent goodbye to Draco, I skipped over to Harry and helped dust the snow off his shoulders.

“How does defeat taste, eh boys?” Peyton couldn’t help but laugh.

Ron shot her a glare, while Harry gave a chuckle. “Come on, Harry. Let’s go,” Ron muttered, seeming a bit angry. As he stomped off, quite literally dragging Harry behind him, Hermione made her way to us. She gave Ron a sympathetic look as he walked by.

When she reached us, she gave me an impressed look. “How did you do that?” she asked, her eyebrows coming together slightly.

I was confused. “Do what?”

“Well, it looked like you were throwing two snowballs at once. Did you bewitch a pile?”

I gave a small one-shoulder shrug. “I don’t know what you mean,” I replied. I could tell she didn’t believe me, but gave her own shrug and walked back towards the castle, complaining about how cold it was outside. Peyton and I followed behind, with Peyton dropping back every few steps.

Once we were far enough away from our bookish friend, Peyton gave me a knowing look. “It was Draco wasn’t it.”

When I couldn’t stop the blush coming over my face and neck, Peyton grinned. It slowly faded until it was a slight frown. “Why didn’t you tell Hermione?”

I gave another shrug but replayed her question in my head. Why _did_ I not tell Hermione about Draco?

For some reason, I just felt like it would be a bad idea to tell Hermione about my friendship with Draco.


	28. * Meet the Fam! *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry readers! I meant for this chapter to be done last week, then yesterday, but I failed you all. 🥺 I hope y'all forgive me, but I was swamped with the first week of school and having to ajust to everything again. I hope you are staying safe, and enjoy this chapter! 
> 
> Hopefully the next one will be up by next weekend, but no later than two weeks from now. 😶😶

After the snowball fight, I spent the night with my friends, and Ron thrown in, hanging around Harry all night. Peyton showed me and Hermione how to play Exploding Snap while Ron taught Harry Wizard’s Chess. I didn’t realize how late it got until I was yawning every five minutes. I asked Hermione to cast a quick _Tempus_ , a time-telling spell we learned from Flitwick earlier in the week.

“Oh, wow! I didn’t realize how late it was,” she said.

“Well, what time is it?” Ron asked.

“It’s…” she cast the spell again to show Ron. When she muttered the incantation, I felt a shiver run along my neck. I shuddered, wandering what just happened. Nobody else seemed to react. Hermione continued. “... half past twelve.”

Peyton shot me a glance; her eyebrows quirked. I shook my head, not wanting to talk about what just happened. Harry suddenly shot up, nearly upending the chess board. “Don’t you and Peyton need to get up early tomorrow? Well, today I guess.”

“Yeah,” I yawned again. “Let’s go Peyton.”

We headed up the spiral staircase. The other girls in the dorm, minus Hermione, were already asleep. Peyton and I quickly got dressed in our pajamas. But instead of slipping into bed and resting, like we should, I perched myself on Peyton’s bed. I knew that we both were not going to be able to sleep until we discussed what happened downstairs.

As if she could read my thoughts, Peyton looked me in my eyes, the moonlight reflecting in her hazel eyes. “What happened down there? You looked like…”

I stared down at my lap, tugging at my shirt hem. “I umm…”

 _How do I explain this to her_. How could I explain a feeling I had when I don’t even know what happened. _Does that make sense?_

No it doesn’t.

“I don’t know. I – I felt like someone ran an owl feather across the back of my neck when Hermione did the second _Tempus_. I just don’t know…” I whispered.

Peyton stilled my hands. “Aileen, it’s okay. Let’s het some sleep. Tomorrow you meet my family!”

She seemed way to excited for it being almost one in the morning. “You mean today?” I asked in a teasing tone. She just squealed quietly before kicking me off her bed… literally.

I fell with a thump, causing one of the girls, Lavender, to turn over in her sleep. “Good night Peyton,” I sighed, dragging myself to my bed.

“Good morning Aileen,” she responded sarcastically.

I was having such a good dream, when suddenly it changed. There was feeling of loss, a burning pain across the back of my head, and the same voice from before. An indistinct shape moved closer, his (I had a feeling it was male, even if the high-pitched laugh didn’t match my theory) words garbled. A low hissing sounded nearby, seeming goaded by his speech. As the shape got closer, I felt vibrations travel through my body, the feeling of danger sharp in the air. I felt more than saw the hand reaching out for me, the pain intensifying the closer it became.

“Misssssss Pottter.” I tried to squirm away.

_BAM!_

I wasn’t in control of my body. The moment I felt the impact, I lashed out. Grabbing the closest object I could find, my eyes still shut tight, I lashed out, flinging my “weapon” at my attacker.

“Ow Aileen!” a familiar voice shouted in my ear.

_Oh bugger!_

I opened my eyes and saw the blurry form of Peyton standing over me. Her pale arms were crossed over her chest. Fire danced in her eyes, warning of danger. “Why the _bloody hell_ do you have a book under your pillow?”

Even though I was still lying down, I shrunk in on myself. “Sorry,” I grimaced out.

“Anyways, it’s time to get up. The train leaves in an hour,” Peyton said, brightening with the reminder that she was about to see her family. I perked up as well, finally getting up to take a quick shower.

As I reached the doorway, I heard a flapping sound, right before I felt the harp corner of my novel hit me in my back. I whipped around to see Peyton’s smirk. “Payback,” was all she said.

“Bleh,” I stuck out my tongue, feeling like the petty child I was.

After my shower, I dressed in my nicest pair of dark jeans, a neutral grey shirt (Peyton warned against wearing anything Green, Blue , or even Red, at least for the first meeting), my Taylors, and an old black winter coat. I had packed my necessities in a small knapsack Hermione let me borrow for the break. After the three of us had a small breakfast (Harry decided he would rather sleep in with Ron than see me off. Typical of him), we headed off to the train.

The train ride back to London was not that different than the ride to Hogwarts. The three of us joked around, gossiped about the other students and teachers, how we were doing at school, et cetera.

Eventually, the train began to slow as we approached the platform. Each of us donned our coats once more. I shouldered the knapsack, and the three of us braved the frigid winter winds of London. Hermione waved goodbye and passed through the barrier, her parents huddled together in wait.

I looked around, trying to find someone who looked like an older version of Peyton. Not seeing anyone that fit, I turned to my friend where she stood, appearing unbothered by the weather that had me shaking to my core. Before I could even open my mouth, Peyton sprinted away, squealing like a kid meeting Saint Nicholas at the mall.

“Muuuum! Daadddy!”

Sure enough, there was a woman who had Peyton’s hair bending down to sweep my friend into what looked like a painful hug. She was obviously Peyton’s mum: her shoulder length hair a shade darker than my friends, the same small nose, and similar body builds. Peyton’s mum could have easily passed as a model. I bet she was.

The older of the two gentlemen with the lady bent down as well to engulf the two within his arms. He had Peyton’s eyes and smile. _Her father._

As for me, I stood there, uncomfortably shifting my feet, blowing n my cupped hands to try and warm them. _Why does it have to be so cold?_ I looked down at my feet.

“Hey,” an unfamiliar voice called out to me. “Come over here.”

The other person who was part of the welcoming committee had walked over. He wore a pair of casual jeans, a large navy overcoat that covered a white pullover. His dirty blonde hair falling over his right eyebrow slightly. He gave me a charming smile and held out his hand for me to take. I stared at the boy then shrugged. _What did I have to lose?_

Once I grabbed his bare hand in my gloved one, a shiver went through my body that had nothing to do with the raging weather around me.

The mystery guy pulled me closer to Peyton. As we approached, the trio broke apart. My friend turned around, a bit breathless, and I had to stifle my giggle. I wasn’t quick enough in getting my hand up in time and let out an embarrassing snort-cough. Which was just the first impression that I wanted to make with her parents.

“Mum, Dad, this is my friend that I wrote about, Aileen,” she gestured to me as I felt my face and exposed neck flame up. I gave a small wave before looking at my scuffed sneakers. I peaked under my eyelashes at the family and saw Blondie Boy smirk at me.

“Oh, _darling_! We’ve heard so much about you! Don’t be shy, come here. Come here!”

I found myself enveloped in one of the painful looking hugs I saw Peyton in. It was a bit uncomfortable at first, but I eventually relaxed. It felt… nice, to be hugged like that from someone who wasn’t my brother. To be hugged by a mother.

Once I was released, Peyton introduced me to her mother and father ( _I was right_ ), and her older brother, Leo.

“Now that that’s out of the way, do you mind if we go home? In case you haven’t noticed, it’s starting to snow pretty heavily,” Leo puffed a small cloud for emphasis on how cold it was.

Peyton nodded her head and grabbed onto her father’s arm. With a _pop_ , they disappeared into thin air. I stared at the spot they vanished from, open-mouthed and a bit startled.

Leo chuckled. “First time Side-Along? Don’t worry. Here, grab my arm and don’t let go,” he reassured me. Once I had my grip, he counted down from three.

“Three…”

“Two…”

I closed my eyes, wondering if it was going to hurt.

“One…”

I felt Leo turn slightly as the air was squeezed out of my lungs.


	29. 30. * Christmas (Part 1) *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello readers! I feel so sorry for the inactivity. School has been kicking my butt, and all this Covid stress is not helping. 😑 Anyways, to make it up to y'all, I am doing a double update! And, added bonus, these chapters are also longer than usual! 
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy!
> 
> Also, don't forget to show me some love through comments / kudos!

The world disappeared into blackness, pure suffocating blackness. I couldn’t breathe through it. Even though I _knew_ Leo was next to me, that I was holding his arm, I couldn’t feel him. I was alone.

As soon as that thought registered in my mind, the pressing blackness increased its pressure around my torso. Squeezing so tight, I thought I saw strobes of light within the blank dark canvas around me. It was building, building… my chest was about to cave in with the pressure!

As it got to the point of no return, a brilliant flash of white light brought me crashing to the snow-covered ground. My hands burned at the contact, and my jeans were soaked threw at the knees.

At first, I was too dizzy and sick to do much but gasp in lungful’s of air. There was a reassuring hand pat my back.

“I know. The first time is always the worst. It’ll soon past,” Leo tried to soothe. After another minute of slowing my breathing down, I decided I was well enough to stand. Leo offered his hand, and I was able to get up. I took one last breathe to steady my shaking knees. “Okay, I’m good.”

Leo gave me a crooked smile. “Welcome to Rothkins Manor,” he to the enormous house in front of me.

“Why – “

But with the snow covered yard stretching as far as I could see, the manor was magical. Real fairy lights twinkled in the fading light, the sparse pine trees decorated in House colors: the tallest in green and silver, two of similar height in blue and grey, one that had red and gold tinsel wrapped around the flashing white lights, and the smallest tree, barely three feet tall, with a bunch of candy.

The manor itself was like a castle. Towers rose from the back, plenty of windows along the front, and even a wrap around balcony on the second story of the west wing.

“Wow,” I breathe out. It took me a minute to remember what I had meant to say. “Why is it called Rothkins Manor? Shouldn’t it be Jackson?”

Leo shook his head. “No, Jackson is the name of my father. This house belongs to my Mother. Rothkins was her maiden name. When they got married, Mother changed her name. When my grandparents died, the house was passed to her, but she kept the name as a reminder of her roots.”

“That’s… wow, that was a beautiful story. Thank you for telling me.”

He chuckled. “No wonder Mother likes you so much. You’ll be the only one here with any manners. Come on, let’s go,” he added, nodding towards the open front .

The inside was just as I imagined. The wooden floorboards gleamed from the light from the chandelier. Right in front of me was an elegant staircase that branched off at the top, leading to the different wings of the mansion. Off to my right was a fireplace designed to look like a serpents mouth. Inside was a roaring fire, the waves of warmth instantly heating my shivering body. To the left was the drawing room, the rest of the Jackson family already inside.

“Aileen! Where have you been? Get in here and meet my little brother, Andy.”

I gave Leo a sheepish smile before I walked over to Peyton. Andy was shielding himself behind her body, occasionally peeking around to look at me. I gave Peyton a quizzical look, but she mouthed “Shy”.

I hid my smirk. I couldn’t imagine anyone who was related to Peyton being shy. Still, I knelt down to his eye level, not aware of the gazes from the older family members.

“Hullo Andy,” I breathed out, suddenly more nervous than I should be. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Hi Andy. My name is Aileen. I am Peyton’s friend – “

“Best friend,” Peyton corrected.

“Can I be your friend too?” I asked the small boy.

Slowly, he peeked out once more. I thought he was going to duck again, but he surprised me by taking a step out from behind his sister. He walked closer, stopping before my outstretched hand. I saw his mass of chocolate curls, the freckles dotted around his nose, and his eyes could easily rival the sky for clearest blue. I smiled softly at him as he chewed his lip, the four-year-old obviously having a silent conversation within.

My arm was starting to ache.

“Andy,” Peyton whispered.

Suddenly, I was launched backwards, the air squeezed from my chest. It took a minute to realize the weight crushing my ribs was from Andy’s arms as he gave me a fierce hug. “If you are Tin’s fwend, then you my fwend too.”

I gave the little guy a hug back, touched by what he said. Peyton’s parents let out a relieved sigh, and Leo gave a chuckle.

Then, just as suddenly as I was embraced, Andy was up and running around again. As I pulled myself up, Peyton’s mom embraced Peyton in a hug, then me. ‘’Girls, it’s quite late. Why don’t you show Aileen to her room, dear,” she added as she released me. “If you need anything, just call Tippy.”

“Who’s Tippy,” I asked as we left the fire room. Peyton lead me up the stairs and towards the west wing of the house before she answered my question. “Our house-elf. She’s been a part of this house, this family, for as long as I could remember.”

“Oh.” Despite the four months I had spent at Hogwarts, I still had no idea what she was talking about.

Eventually we made our way to Peyton’s room. She pointed to the door right across the hall. “That is your room. Need any help getting settled?”

But I was tired. So very tired. “No, it’s alright. G’night.”

I opened the door, leaving it cracked just a bit to let in the hallway light. Since I wasn’t in school anymore, I couldn’t use my wand.

I shrugged out of my coat and pulled of my shirt, choosing to put on a camisole I randomly grabbed from my bag. I didn’t bother trying to struggle my way out of my jeans as a wave of exhaustion hit me. With a soft click, I shut the door and stumbled my way to the bed. As soon as my head hit the soft pillows, I was already asleep.

~

Sunlight streamed into my face _. I thought I had shut the drapes near my bed._

It took longer than I cared to admit to remember the previous night. Rolling over, I reached for my wand, casting a quick _Tempus_.

“Bloody hell,” I groan, bolting from bed. Thinking I was the last one up, I rummaged through my bag, grabbing the first pair of pants and a top. I opened the nearest door and was surprised to see a bathroom. Inside was another door that lead into a closet. _Fancy._

After I hurriedly brush my teeth, taking in my outfit (black sweats and an old white tee), I decide I’m decent enough to walk downstairs.

Closing the door behind me, I take the stairs two at a time, pulling my hair into a loose ponytail as I did. When I reached the bottom landing, I follow the smell of freshly baked bread to the dining room. Laid out on the table was a feast worthy of Hogwarts.

A bowl of crisp fruit was gleaming at one end of the table, and a platter of the freshest bread I’ve seen on the other. Not even Hogwarts gets it that fresh. I mean, the steam was still rising softly. Containers of several cereal options and a carton of milk lay at the center. Bowls of jam, butter, and jelly ( _is there really a difference?_ ), orange juice, apple juice, omelets and scrambled eggs scattered around. I stood breathing in the smell, ignoring the rumbling of my stomach, when Peyton’s mom walked out from the swinging doors that, I presumed, led to the kitchen. She held a mug of coffee while a peculiar creature followed behind, bearing a stack of pancakes so high, I wondered how it could see.

“Good morning, darling. How did you sleep? The others are still in bed, but you can go ahead and help yourself to some food. You might even get to eat some before it’s all snatched up!” Her laugh was a delightful peal ringing through the air.

“Erm, ok I guess. I thought I was the last one up. It’s nearly ten.”

Mrs. Jackson gave me a smile as she slid into one of the chairs, patting the back of the one next to her. “Oh no, dearie. The boys don’t get up until at least eleven. Now come on, eat up. I’m sure Peyton has lots planned for the two of you!”

At some point, the creature with the stack of pancakes had returned to the kitchen, bringing with it a cup of morning tea for me. “Er… thank you –” I tried.

“Tippy, missus,” her sweet voice chimed. I smiled, nodding my head in thanks once more. Tippy bowed, her pencil nose nearly scraping the pristine tiles.

I nearly jumped out of my skin as Peyton said, “Our house-elf. Isn’t she the best?” She kissed her mum’s cheek, sliding into the seat across from me.

“So, I was thinking I could show you around for a bit, then we can do something you want to do,” she said, sounding more like a question there towards the end.

“That sounds perfect! But first breakfast.” They laughed as I set about loading my plate. I grabbed some steaming pancakes, heaps of cheese covered scrambled eggs, at least twenty pieces of bacon and sausage, and several pieces of toast smothered in grape jelly. I was just realizing how hungry I was, especially since I didn’t eat any dinner the night before.

Trying not to feel odd or weird, I grabbed one of the pancakes and filled it with eggs, crumbled bacon and ripped sausage pieces. I couldn’t fold the pancake in a traditional taco style, so I rolled it up as best as I could. Peyton and her mom were talking about something, probably Hogwarts, and hadn’t noticed what I was doing. I never did this at school because I never knew who was watching me, but this was my favorite way to make a breakfast burrito.

That first bite… Oh my gods. My taste buds were in heaven. I don’t know if it was so good because I haven’t eaten my favorite breakfast item in a very long time, or if it was how the food was prepared itself. Whatever the reason, I couldn’t (and didn’t) stop the groan of satisfaction from escaping my closed lips.

“Well, if it’s that good, I might want to try what you’re having.”

Frightened, I dropped my wonderful creation and almost fell from my seat. Peyton leaned over, saw my face, and cackled. Scowling I turned in my seat to see Leo smirking at me, all too pleased with my reaction. My mood turned fowler as I returned to my ruined burrito, splayed all across my plate, some even spilling onto the table.

“Oh come on! I didn’t mean to scare you,” he tried to amend. “It honestly looked like something I should try!”

Silently, I attempted to clean my mess. Before I went very far, Leo called out. “Tippy, could you help Aileen?”

With a _pop!_ , the house-elf appeared on the table with a dustpan in hand. She began to clear up my food from the table, refusing to let me do my share and help. Once she was done, she bowed. Another _pop!_ later, she was gone.

“Now, could you make another one to show me how to make that delicious looking breakfast you had?” Leo asked, going as far as to give me his best ‘’puppy eyes’’ look. Considering he must be at least 17 years old; it wasn’t as cute as it would be if, say Andy, were to do it. His blue eyes seemed to flash with green specks around the pupil. Realizing I was staring, I cleared my throat and tugged at my fallen hair. “Sure.”

He sat down next to Peyton, filling his plate similar to my own. I went through the steps, showing him as I filled up my own second helping. Together, we took the ‘first’ bite. I silently chewed mine, waiting for Leo’s reaction. His face was carefully blank even as he took his second bite, then third. He finished the burrito, his mask still in place. It did nothing for my nerves.

His chiseled face split into a grin, his teeth almost blinding me as the sun shone just right upon them. “Well! Seems like I found my new favorite breakfast,” he declared.

I released the breath I hadn’t noticed I was holding in.

Eventually, Mr. Jackson and Andy came down and ate with us. Leo even showed Andy the “new and proper” way to eat his eggs and pancakes. When Peyton glanced at me, a tiny motion of her head let me know that she was done and ready for the day with me.

I stood up, folding my napkin over the plate as Peyton did. “Thank you for breakfast Mrs. Jackson,” I . She smiled back as Leo and his father were talking about the latest Quidditch matches and Andy played with his food.

“Your welcome, Aileen. Hardly anyone compliments the food now-a-days.”

I grinned, knowing how unimpressed Peyton was with the Hogwarts food. At Peyton’s impatient not-so-subtle cough, I excused myself and followed my friend to the foyer.

“So, what are we going to do?”

“I planned to give you a tour of the place, then maybe have another snowball fight. After I win, we could come back in for some of Tippy’s amazing hot chocolate. Then maybe a movie night? Or whatever you want to do…”

“How about we skip the tour, and I’ll beat _you_ in that snowball fight,” I countered.

She scoffed. “As if! How about a Galleon to the winner… me.”

“Easy. But your not the one who’s gonna get it,” I teased. “Come on, I can’t wait to take your money off your hands!”


	30. * Christmas (Part 2) *

The sun had started to dip towards the horizon as I warmed up by the serpentine fireplace. With a thick comforter wrapped around my shoulders, and my hands wrapped around a mug of hot chocolate, a sense of peace seemed to settle around me. I sighed, finally relaxing for the first time since September. Even if I did lose a Galleon to Peyton.

Next to me, Peyton asked, “Are you ready for tomorrow? What do you think you’ll be getting?”

I paused. Christmas was tomorrow… but I honestly wasn’t expecting much. Even though I was treated better than Harry, the Dursley’s never really gave me much. My gifts were usually clothes, and once even an old pair of clunky platform shoes my Aunt Tunny used to wear. Lets just say that they found their way into the trash as soon as everyone’s back was turned.

Point being, now that I am a witch, I’m don’t think my aunt or uncle will be sending me anything this year, or any year for that matter. But Peyton didn’t need to know that.

“Umm, I don’t know. Maybe a nice book? What about you?” I questioned in return.

Peyton gave me an playful smile. “I think Leo got me a Nimbus 2000, just like the one your brother got earlier this year.”

I spent the night with Peyton and her brothers, playing wizards chess, Exploding Snap, and Gobstones. It’s like a Muggle game of marbles, but whenever someone loses, the stone squirts vulgar-smelling substance into the face. Once, I was laughing at Leo since he lost four times in a row to his sister, and the liquid got into my mouth when I wasn’t paying attention. I had to wash my mouth out seven times just to get the taste out!

Shortly before midnight, the Jackson parents announced that it was time for the ‘’young-ins’’ to get some sleep. Funny thing was, until they said it, I had felt fine. But as the words left their lips, my eyelids began to grow heavy and droop. Yawning, I bid everyone goodnight and climbed the endless staircase to my room. I was asleep as soon as my head hit the soft pillow.

The next morning, I awoke with the birds. Rather than get up after only a few hours of sleep, I decided to snuggle deeper into the covers. So warm and soft… if not a bit lumpy by my feet. Kicking at the bump was a bad idea.

I sat up, holding my throbbing foot, planning on glaring at the offending object, but my mouth fell open at the sight.

A pile of presents!

All kinds of shapes and sized packages adorned the foot of my bed, most wrapped in plain brown paper.

I excitedly, grabbed the one that hurt my big toe. Tearing off the paper concealing the heavy gift, I discovered a book with a beautifully decorated cover. A golden dragon twisted and turned in a midnight blue sky, a distant pasture below. _All You Need to Know About Dragons._

 _Hagrid,_ I thought. _Thank you_ _._

My next present was from Hermione. It was a plain black novel, but the inside was filed with potions for me to try. Looking back at the cover, gold lettering appeared as if it were being written down the longer I watched: _Book of Potions ~ Learn all the potions that your heart desires!_ _by_ _Zygmunt Budge_. I squealed in joy for Hermione’s gift. “This is so cool!” I cried. “Thank you Hermione!”

Before I could open the next present, Peyton burst into my room. “Merry Christmas!” she exclaimed. “Let’s open our presents together!”

She already had Tippy levitating her pile onto my bed. Sitting side my side, Peyton opened two of her presents: a lovely white sweater, accented with a red and gold griffin. “Shouldn’t it be a lion?” I asked. “It’s supposed to be Gryffindor, right?”

“Meh. I mean, _Gryffin_ dor should have a _griffin_ mascot, don’t you think?”

Her next gift was a family drawing from Andy. The drawings were enchanted to move around in the picture, probably from one of the parents.

Together, we opened our next set of presents. Peyton’s was from Leo. A Nimbus 2000.

I laughed. “How did you know?”

She smirked. “I may or may not have snuck into his room after the snowball fight yesterday.”

When I opened mine, I couldn’t stop the gasp from escaping my lips. My present from my brother was a pair of Golden Snitch earrings that dangle below my ear. The wings even fluttered every once in a while.

My next gift, from Ron, was a box containing all my favorite wizards candy. Peyton also got candy from the young red-haired boy.

Me and Peyton received identical packages from the twins. Sharing a look, we both decided we were not going to be the ones to open it. A wicked looking smirk rapidly formed on Peyton. “Oh, I know, Leo can open these for us.” We set them aside.

I munched on some of the chocolate that Ron sent me as Peyton pulled out a heavy package from her pile. “She got you a textbook too?” I laughed. She groaned and started to complain, ripping the parcel quickly. Then it abruptly cut off.

“Wot?” I asked, swallowing my mouthful of sweets with difficulty. I leaned over and saw a copy of _Advanced Beginners Transfiguration_ sitting in her lap.

“Hermione is literally the best,” she whispered in shock.

Pretending to be grumpy, I grabbed one of the throw pillows behind me and smacked my friend upside her head.

“Oi! What’s that for?”

“Nothing,” I said, far too innocent to be sincere. Nodding to her last present – mine – I blurted, “Gonna open it?”

Peyton sighed and pinched her nose. “This child,” she murmured. Then she looked up and smiled. “Of course I am! But only if you open mine with me.”

Grabbing my last box, I started the countdown. “Three…two…”  
  


I paused, so Peyton smacked my arm. “Don’t stop. Keep going!”

With a light chuckle, I said, “…one!” We each unwrapped the other’s gift to us. Peyton didn’t even wait for me to finish removing the Spell-o-tape before flinging her arms around my head.

“Thank you thank you thank you!” she squealed. She held up her new silver charm bracelet, the first of many charms already on it. The circular pendent dangled and caught the early morning light as Peyton’s wrist moved. A black lion on his hunches, gold and red stars surrounding his raised front paws. On the back were the words ‘ _Courage, Determination, Bravery’_ in bold print.

“I love it!” she cried, tears of joy lightly marking her face. I couldn’t think of a happier day.

Once she had calmed down a bit, she gave a pointed glance to my lap. Looking down, I was surprised to see her present to me still unwrapped. With a sheepish grin, I opened the box.

Inside was the cutest knapsack I have ever seen. It was a denim blue and had owls flying around it. The best part was that all the owls looked like Nikias, my own owl.

“Thank you Peyton! I love it!”

“That’s not even the best part. Inside is enchanted to hold five times the usual amount of a normal knapsack, but without the weight. My parents helped with that.”

I had no words to express how much I appreciated her gift. Instead, I gave her the biggest, strongest, and most heart-felt hug I could muster. Now, I no longer had to go around Hogwarts with an overloaded pack stuffed full of books, crumpled parchment, broken quills and spilt ink bottles. _Bloody hell,_ I couldn’t help thinking, _it was a nightmare._

As we pulled apart, the door burst open, banging off the wall from the force. Andy came into the room, screaming, “Mewy Chwistmas!” Jumping onto the bed, he gave his sister a hug first, then flung his scrawny arms around my neck. Giggling, I sat him in my lap. “Have you opened your presents yet, little mister?”

“Yup. Mummy help me. Lookie!” he exclaimed. “I got a baby dragon from Leo!” He grabbed the miniature cut-out dragon that was somehow sleeping peacefully where it had fallen on the bed. It was a vivid azure blue, the spikes and tips of the wings a pure white.

“That is so cool. You got a –” I turned to Peyton. “What is it?” I mouthed. She whispered the name for me. “—a Swedish Short-Snout!” I finished.

Suddenly, the little boy in my lap turned to face me. “Do you have a pwesent for me?”

A bit stumped, I glanced around my bed. Seeing the parcel Ron sent, I got an idea. “Close your eyes, Andy. And hold out your hands.” When he did, I had Peyton’s help choosing his favorite candies into a small handful. “Here you go. Merry Christmas!”

Even though I used a single hand for the candy, in his teeny tiny hands, it appeared to overflow. Instantly, his little face lit up. “Candy!” His huge baby blues turned to me, the widest grin on his lips. “Tank you!” he exclaimed.

Not long after, Andy left with his pile of Christmas candy spilling from his shirt-turned-pouch. Me and Peyton snacked on my chocolates while we went through the textbooks we received, and even helping me find a nice outfit to match my earrings.

“You know what I should do?” I said as Peyton braided and styled my hair. “I should write to Harry and Ron. You know, tell them thank you and ask if they got my gifts.”

“Ok, hold still for a bit… right. Grab the parchment and a quill. You can write while I finish your hair.” Peyton got up and grabbed her own supplies as I rifled through my bag. Once I was back in my previous position on the floor, a pillow underneath to soften the floor, I started on my letters. Keeping them short and sweet, I surprisingly finish around the same time Peyton did. When she handed me a small mirror to examine her handiwork, I gasped.

“Oh, my gods!” I cried, still not used to the wizards use of _Merlin_. “This is beautiful. Thank you!”

“Your welcome. Besides, you look beautiful,” she reassured me as my hand crept up to cover my neck. She had styled my hair up in an elegant bun with a braided piece of hair in front that ended tucked underneath at some point. Small whisps of hair were left hanging near my face. There was nothing I could do to cover my mole.

“Let’s owl those letters, k?” she tried to break the slight awkwardness of the moment, on that I created.

Before I left the relative safety of the room, I grabbed my school scarf and wrapped it around to cover my mole.

Mrs. Jackson met us at the stairs and gave me a warm smile. “Good morning girls. Already opened your presents?” she guessed.

“Yes ma’am. Thank you for helping Peyton with my bag. I love it! Reminds me of my owl,” I beamed. She vaguely pointed into the drawing room, saying, “The boys are in there, finishing up breakfast. But don’t worry, midday meal will be soon if you would prefer to wait.”

“Ok, mum. We are going to the garden house so Aileen can owl her brother at school.”

“Speaking of owls,” Mr. Jackson announced, leaning on the doorway frame next to the steps. “One came in for you dear. He’s in the garden house resting.”

In the garden house, I found Nikias preening his feathers in front of a proud-looking female owl. I walked in as she turned her back him, seeming a bit haughty. I chuckled. “Oh no, Neeks. Looks like she isn’t interested.” Peyton also laughed as she went to check on Archimedes.

When he heard my voice, Nikias gave a small hoot in greeting. With one last shake, he hopped closer and lifted his leg, showing me the clunky box attached. Seeing Harry’s messy script, I became excited. “What did you bring me, huh?”

Untying the box, I opened Harry’s letter first:

_Sis,_

_Merry Christmas! I couldn’t believe how many presents I found on my bed this morning. Best Christmas ever! Hope yours was good at Peyton’s house._

_Anyways, Ron’s mum sent us a package too. I went ahead and sent your half with Nikias. Hope you like it!_

_When you get back, I have something to show you._

_Love,_

_Harry_

_P.S ~ Thanks for the Snitch socks!_

Curious to see what Mrs. Weasley sent, I dived into the box, not too worried about the rest of the letter. Harry was weird. _Prolly_ _wants to show me a rare bug Hagrid found… something like that._

But all that flew out of my head when I saw what was in the box.

Inside was what looked like a hand-knitted sweater. It was a neutral grey color and had red ‘A’ that matched my hair perfectly. “Wow,” I breathed. But it wasn’t all. Beneath the pullover was a box of homemade English toffee.

Immediately, I pulled on the sweater and it was every bit as soft as it looked. After giving Nikias a small scoop of owl treats and a gentle pat, I carried to box to my friend. I shared the box with her on the short walk back to the house, enjoying the mild winter weather around us. I even gave Leo and Andy, who had easily become my (second) favorite person in the Jackson family.


	31. Not a Chapter

Hey guys! Sorry about this... but I will be taking a break from writing for a while. I have hit a wall of writer's block for this.... and on top of that, can't get another idea out of my head. I'll write that one and see it it doesn't also help me get ideas of Aileen.

I am soo sorry. I don't know when I'll be back to write, but I will def be reading fic on here 😃


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